Partner
by valeriebean
Summary: Sarah has been shot. She’s trying to piece together what happened and protect what remnants of cover-life she has left. All action and drama with flashbacks mixed in. Completed!
1. Partner

_A.N.: It starts near canon, but will get jossed as soon as the characters develop significantly past the Marlin episode. All action and drama with flashback mixed in. Maybe Part 1 of 2?_

-----

**Partner**

Red.

Black.

Red. Black. The swirls of blood and nothingness unwound, releasing Sarah from the bondage of self. The steady chirps of a heart rate monitor traced her rise to consciousness. She couldn't find her eyes. Couldn't find light. Her body hovered formless in a sea of pain, sourced from nowhere, permeating everything. A cool hand touched her skin and her brain latched on to the sensation. Her ears could distinguish from the chirps the soft melody of conversation. People were talking about her. They didn't know she was awake.

Taking stock of her situation, Sarah tested various body parts to see if she could locate them amidst the amorphous pain that enveloped her. She felt a pinch somewhere between her naval and neck, but couldn't quite place it. She also couldn't suppress the pained shriek that emanated from the core of her being and radiated through the room.

"Sarah?" The voice was soft, gentle, urgent, and female.

Sarah groaned pitifully as her body resolved into recognizable parts and the first bits of light came into focus. She was lying on her left side and as near as she could tell, everything hurt. Pressing her palm against the stiff fabric of the bed, she tried to lift her head.

"Try and hold still," the woman said. "Sarah."

Blinking through the fog, she finally recognized the resonance of that voice. "Ellie?"

Sarah's hand flailed madly as she reached forward seeking connection, but Ellie's hands were occupied.

"Please hold still."

"Chuck?" Sarah called, grunting in pain as she twisted to look for her charge. "Chuck!"

"I'm here," Chuck said, rushing to that side of the bed so she could see without turning. He knelt so that his nose was just visible over the side of the mattress and took Sarah's flailing hand. "I'm here. Hold still."

"I…" Sarah panted, gripping Chuck's hand as tightly as she could. "I … Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. How are you doing?"

Sarah winced, gasped, and squeaked as pain consumed her.

"Believe it or not, this is a good thing," Ellie told her. "Considering how close the bullet came to your spine –"

"John!" Sarah gasped, remembering him for the first time. Everything was hazy, but if bullets were flying…

"He's on his way," Chuck assured. "He had work this morning."

"Already here," Casey said, stepping into the room. She heard his voice, but the door was behind her. Chuck was looking up at Casey, but Sarah couldn't read anything off his face.

"How is she?" Casey asked.

"In pain, but that is a good sign," Ellie answered. She placed a hand on Sarah's cheek. "I'll get you some class-one painkillers."

"No morphine," Sarah said weakly.

Ellie smiled and nodded. "I've seen your chart."

Sarah gritted her teeth as Ellie disappeared from sight and Casey walked into view. Sarah watched Casey's face, knowing he'd make eye contact after Ellie left the room. When he looked down at her, she asked him, "What did she mean – about the chart?"

"It means she knows you're CIA."

"What?" Sarah asked, shifting in confusion, then regretting the movement as pain coursed through her veins. "Why?"

"It couldn't be helped," Casey answered. "She has the security clearance."

"What?" Sarah asked again. The more Casey spoke, the more confusing things became.

"Bartowski, take a walk," Casey ordered, and then he pulled up a chair next to her pillow. Chuck looked uncertainly at Sarah, but she couldn't do more than blink the okay for him to leave. As he shook his hand free of her grip, she tipped forward and whined painfully. The world went fuzzy again.

"Hey, come back," Casey said, placing both hands on her shoulders. His hands were large and warm and stung like jellyfish. She whimpered as he kneaded her skin.

"I need you to tell me about this man that shot you."

Sarah choked, wanting to tell Casey to remove his hands, but with every press of his fingers, the pain lessened. She closed her eyes as her limbs slowly became distinguishable from the jellyfish stings and she laughed to herself. "All this time, I thought you were only good for threats and torture."

"I am a man of many talents," he chuckled.

"Who taught you this one?"

"Same woman who taught me about bonsais."

"John, what are you doing?" Ellie asked, startling Sarah with her presence. Sarah felt so helpless facing away from the door.

"It's just acupressure. Nothing untoward. Right, Sarah?" Casey said socially. He used her first name, which signified that his cover hadn't been compromised even if hers had. That seemed odd, but now was not the time to question. She could barely wrap her mind around coherent thoughts and she was simply grateful that he hadn't pulled away when Ellie returned. Ellie wheeled a cart into view and padlocked it to the wall. Class-one drugs were always kept secure.

"Sarah, how are you feeling?" she asked

Sarah breathed deliberately as Casey's fingers continued working. "I can feel my toes. They don't hurt."

Ellie laughed and nodded, but Sarah didn't think it was funny.

"My shoulder …"

"Rotator cuff is swollen," Casey finished.

"I can work with that," Ellie acknowledged. "How's the pain?"

Sarah sighed, sinking back into the hazy black of semi-consciousness, but this time succumbing to comfort rather than pain. Ellie took that as a good sign.

"How about I leave you to Eastern medicine for now," Ellie suggested. "The less time you spend with these drugs in your system, the better."

"Thanks," Sarah coughed. They waited for Ellie to leave, then Casey looked at Sarah sternly again. His hands were softer than she thought they should be and she had this strange, but amusing vision of him sleeping with moisturizing gloves.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked her in a hushed voice.

Sarah furrowed her brow, forcing memories to fall from the red and black. "I remember bagels."

"So you remember the morning briefing?"

"My belt was too loose. It kept falling down."

"Content, Walker. Focus."

She whined and winced as he hit a particularly tender spot near her hip. She'd been shot somewhere below the belly… somewhere above the thigh. She couldn't distinguish memories and days. It had been a busy week for the Intersect – missions, names, craziness.

"John, the CIA –"

"Your replacement arrives in a few hours," Casey answered. "I will brief him personally, which is why I need you to tell me what happened."

"I don't…" she murmured, fighting to keep consciousness through the flood of sensations. She suddenly felt very thirsty, but didn't have the luxury to feel concern for herself just yet. "I told you to get Chuck out."

"You do remember," he smiled.

"No," she replied. "It's just something I would've told you to do."

"You _are_ very bossy."

"I'm thirsty."

"If you have a name, I have water."

"It was you," Sarah whispered as the realization hit her.

"I didn't shoot you."

Casey must have pegged her delirious because he gave her the water anyway. But Sarah knew Casey hadn't shot her. What she realized was that he was the one responsible for getting her out. He really was her partner!

-----

Casey wasn't just running behind Chuck, he was herding him and Chuck could only hope they were going some place safe. Chuck was familiar with this particular row of back doors and warehouses because he and his buddies often got up to mischief here. They'd tested the vodka capacity of watermelons, made rockets out of loose traffic cones… Today, he and Casey were dodging a spray of bullets from unseen assailants and that wasn't nearly as fun as it seemed in Spacewar.

Casey tackled him and rolled until they were between a dumpster and a brick wall. Chuck's face scraped against pavement and broken beer bottles, shooting fire through his skin. Casey was already on his elbows, edging around their small cover, seeking a way out. He consulted his watch-radio briefly.

"Where to?" Chuck asked. He forced himself to his knees and crawled next to Casey. His heart was pounding so hard in his throat he thought he'd vomit it up.

"S.W.A.T. set a perimeter by the CD Shack," Casey said. "We get out."

"But Sarah –"

"She can get herself out. We don't even know where she is."

Chuck nodded uncertainly. The path to the CD Shack from here was very open and it would only be by pure luck that they wouldn't get killed. It was days like this that Chuck wished his skin were made of Kevlar.

"Just plow through Bartowski. Don't look back. Keep running."

Chuck looked around at the tan colored bricks and choked on the dust flying through the air as bullets flew. The CD Shack was next to the lingerie store and that Chinese place that always had rats…

"There's a better way," Chuck said certainly. "The staff hall can get us to the L-junction in the buildings. That's half way there."

Casey's jaw tensed and his blue eyes whirred as he recalculated the new strategy. He nodded toward the nearest dark green door to their hiding spot. "Is that door unlocked?"

"I have a key."

Casey shook his head. "No time."

He raised his gun quickly and shot the knob off the door, sending it falling open. He practically threw Chuck to his feet, but Chuck landed in a full run. Things weren't much quieter on the inside than they were on the out, although there were fewer bullets from overhead. His footsteps were echoing maddeningly, betraying their position. He vaulted over obstacles, willing himself not to identify them as bodies. Once they hit the L-junction between the buildings, Casey pulled him sideways behind a pillar so that he could assess the situation. Chuck felt the sting as a bullet whizzed past his shoulder and burned a hole through his shirt. He would've yelped had he not in the same instant seen that red polka-dotted skirt lying like a target in the middle of the crossway.

"Casey," he whimpered, pointing meekly. Sarah was down and covered in blood.

Casey peeked out and then ducked quickly and swore loudly as bullets flew.

"Stay," he ordered.

A flash of a heartbeat later, Casey was darting into the line of fire. He grabbed Sarah by the arm and dragged her behind the pillar next to Chuck. Her clothing was soaked with blood and Chuck nearly passed out, but Casey tweaked his nose, grabbed his hand, and forced him to put pressure on the wound. Sarah convulsed and cried out in response to the pressure and Chuck latched on to that indication of life. He had to get over the dizziness and keep pressure on the wound. Sarah's life depended on it.

"Alright, Intersect," Casey said seriously. "We have to get her to the perimeter. There should be a bus there."

"Bus. Right." Chuck swallowed hard, smearing Sarah's blood across his own cheek as he attempted to wipe away perspiration. "Casey, is she gonna –"

"Count of three," Casey interrupted. He kept checking around the pillar, cataloging the location of the shooters. "You throw her over your shoulder and run to that door. I'll cover you."

"I –" Chuck stammered and his hands shook. The door to which Casey referred may as well have been a mile away. "Me carry her?"

"I can't carry her and cover you at the same time."

"I could –"

"I am not giving you a gun, so don't even bother finishing that thought."

"Casey –"

"Look. My job is to get _you_ out, and that is what I intend to do. If you want Agent Walker to get out with us, you have to carry her. Otherwise, we leave her here, wait for the gunfire to die down, and send in the medics."

Chuck swallowed hard. He shifted and tightened the black corset belt of Sarah's uniform to staunch blood flow around the wound and knelt to get in a position to lift her.

"On three then," he said, praying he didn't drop Sarah or get shot in the next few seconds. Casey did the three count and Chuck scooped Sarah in his arms and ran for the door. The blood was slick and hot, pulsing against his skin, soaking his clothes. His heart pounded from fear, but his resolve held firm as the ambulance came into view. He was barely to the edge of that open ambulance door when he felt Casey's hands on his hips, lifting him and Sarah into the bus without even slowing down. Two medics were in the back and took Sarah immediately. Casey pulled Chuck toward the front of the bus and out of the way. The driver radioed ahead to the hospital saying that an agent was down.

"He said agent," Chuck whispered to Casey. He was willing his body not to shake, because it wasn't safe to freak out yet.

Casey had found a towel and was ministering to his own scrapes and bruises. "What of it?"

"We're going to the hospital," Chuck explained patronizingly. "My sister works at the hospital."

Casey swore, climbed into the front, and had a discussion with his superiors. Chuck craned his neck toward the back and saw Sarah all pasty white like death.

"One of the doctors there has government clearance," Casey said, climbing into the back again. "Worked with diplomats and such."

"Can't we just say she's not an agent? Maybe a civilian caught in the crossfire."

"Brilliant, except it would help if at least_one_ doctor had a real medical history to go off of. This isn't her first serious injury and that makes a difference. Plus government agents get special treatment… more pudding."

"But only one doctor will know?" Chuck clarified. He figured even if only one had the chart, any doctor involved in a surgery would see the scar tissues from old wounds. Casey ignored his concern.

"You probably shouldn't go in all covered in blood like that – in case your sister or her fiancé are around."

"Except they expect me to be with Sarah this afternoon," Chuck pointed out. "If either one sees her without me, there will be major panicking going on."

"This is not up for debate."

"But –"

Casey cut Chuck off by placing a hand over Chuck's mouth. Unfortunately, without words all Chuck had to focus on was his very bloody, sticky, and now cold clothing and that made him dizzy.

"I hope this doctor isn't one of Ellie's friends. Do you know who it is?"

"Code name Littlebird is all."

The world went hazy as Chuck flashed on the name. Rose, bird, doctor, Romanian ambassador was shot. They needed immediate help. Security was an afterthought.

"What is it?" Casey asked, his voice sinking.

"I don't know how much a difference it makes if we go in or not."

Casey caught his meaning right away. "No way."

"Why does my sister have Secret level clearance?" Chuck asked breathlessly. He couldn't understand why he hadn't flashed on her long ago.

Casey rubbed his face in frustration. He looked only at Sarah when he spoke. "You go in."

"What?"

"You go," Casey repeated slowly.

"You just told me –"

"Listen," Casey said, his voice low and intense. "As far as anyone at that hospital knows, I'm just your neighbor. Your sister may be surprised to see you, but she'll know not to ask questions. You go in with the medics and be your dumbfounded self and then she won't panic and we can mess with assumptions and cover while she's doing the surgery."

"I'll go in," Chuck agreed, thinking along. "Then I'll call Morgan and tell him Sarah was shot and I'm at the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because that's what I would do if I weren't the Intersect."

Casey's eyes twitched, but he didn't disagree. "Next you call me."

"But you're here."

"We'll protect my cover for now," Casey explained. "You call your best friend first and then you call me."

"But I –"

"No more time to argue. We're here."

-----

Sarah wondered if the high-pitched whining sounds were really coming from her lungs, and if so whether she could control them. Ellie had pulled her arm out and sideways, exacerbating that pinching feeling in her shoulder. It was very distinct from the throbbing of her gunshot wound or the ache of her muscles. It was sharp and poignant.

"I'm giving you cortisone to reduce the swelling," Ellie explained as she drove a needle into Sarah's shoulder. Sarah didn't feel a thing and she wondered if it was because she was already in pain or if Ellie was really that good.

"I take it that was a pre-existing injury. Do you throw a lot of corn-dogs?" Ellie joked.

Sarah chuckled heartlessly, thinking of all the shuriken she'd chucked that week.

"Where was I shot?"

"Surprisingly, almost nowhere," Ellie answered. "The bullet entered near the hip, ricocheted off the pelvic bone, managed to cut through you while avoiding any serious damage to the major organs, and lodged itself a hair's breadth from your spine. So while it took eight hours, fifteen specialized trauma surgeons, and ten Starbucks compilation albums to stabilize you and sew you shut, the only casualty is your gall bladder. Messy, but not fatal."

"Then why do I hurt so much?"

"You have several bone fractures, deep bruises, and strained muscles. I'm assuming you got most of these injuries prior to being shot. Do you not remember?"

Sarah closed her eyes. She vaguely recalled fighting, but she'd been doing a lot of that this week. "It's hazy. Did Chuck … did he see me bleeding? He faints…"

"He brought you in," Ellie said.

Sarah's brow furrowed. Chuck usually fainted at the mere hint of someone being shot, so seeing her down and covered with blood would've made him dead weight. And why would Casey allow Chuck to come into the hospital.

Ellie touched her cheek, misreading the confusion as pain. "How about I start you on some Western pain meds?"

Sarah's thoughts were on her cover and Chuck's cover. She needed to talk to Casey. "He's not … Chuck – you know he's not … he didn't know about me."

"Well he certainly does now," Ellie said. "I'm not at liberty to discuss this with you."

"Discuss what?" Casey asked, entering jovially with a handful of candy bars. He placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder, which made her feel simultaneously weak and strong.

"John, she's giving me drugs."

"You'd rather I didn't?" Ellie asked in confusion.

"Just let her, Sarah," Casey said. "My fingers are tired."

He was still using her first name, and Sarah found it got more disorienting with time. Ellie attached the IV to her arm and she felt the cool flow of liquid medication through her veins.

"I thought you were with Chuck," Ellie said.

"He and Morgan got on the subject of desert islands and roast beef sandwiches again. There's only so much of that I can take."

"John, can you feed my fish?" Sarah asked. "I have … I don't know where my things are."

"I have your key."

Of course Casey would have her key. She hadn't given it to him, but it was just his way.

"I didn't realize you two were so close," Ellie said suspiciously, eying Sarah. "He's not …"

Sarah laughed dismissively, but at least she could honestly tell Ellie that Casey was not CIA. She would later, if she remembered.

"We work in the same shopping center," Casey explained. "Lunch comes every day and I can't get enough of those gourmet corn dogs."

Sarah bit her lip at the mention of corn dogs. It wasn't so much the imagery of the food as her working.

"The man who shot me," she gasped. "He came in every day his week. Scooter called him the three-o-clock wiener man. I thought he was an old regular."

"Sarah, stop talking," Ellie said sternly. Casey looked back at her in surprise, but Ellie made a quick excuse and ran off, probably to call whatever government agency she was reporting to on Sarah's condition.

"Do you remember this customer's name?" Casey pressed.

Sarah closed her eyes, but instead of becoming clearer, the world swam even more.

"Three-o-clock wiener man," she slurred. "He looked like a horse. Maybe a pony. A shaggy pony."

"What the hell did she give you?"

"Where is Chuck?" Sarah demanded. "Maybe Chuck will flash on the name."

"I doubt he'll flash on three-o-clock wiener man."

"The surveillance footage…"

She was grasping at straws now. Straws and consciousness. But this was important!

"I'll check it out. Ellie was right. You shouldn't be talking."

She wanted to cry. Everything was so hazy. Then the name came.

"Hamisi Zer."

-----

The words 'gourmet' and 'hot-dog' were mutually exclusive as far as Sarah was concerned – or at least as far as her culinary skills were. The skin of the rotating hot-dogs blistered dryly in the oven and the frozen bread … well, there was nothing fresh or gourmet about frozen bread. Still, they kept the dogs moving through the lull that came between the lunch rush, the post-lunch rush, and the post-school flood. She was grateful that Scooter was manning the corndog fryer this afternoon, because she hated the greasy feeling that coated her skin when she had to do it. Although most of her fresh scars were from protecting Chuck, she could point to a few burns that came directly from the fryer and were she not trying to maintain a low profile with her cover, she'd have taken the problem to upper management.

"Here he is," Scooter griped from over her shoulder. "Three-o-clock wiener man."

The man was short, but stocky and his hair was thick and bushy like a hobbit. He wore loose clothes, but he wasn't unkempt. Every day this week, he'd come in, ordered one hot dog on white bread with only horseradish.

"Is he a perv or something?" Sarah asked.

"Why? Did he say something inappropriate to you?"

Sarah's chin dropped and she smiled at the immediate protective tone in her boss' voice.

"No."

"He does seem to wait for you to be on register when there's a line. I'm telling you, it's downright weird. The only regulars we should have at three-o-clock are the kids getting out of school."

Sarah shivered at the accuracy of the analysis. She'd been underestimating Scooter's usefulness as an observer and she wasn't quite sure why she hadn't pegged the strange customer before. It was probably because his behavior was so predictable it seemed like he wanted to be remembered and marked. Most of the threats she sought wanted to be invisible. She exchanged a look with Scooter and he put a protective hand on her arm.

"We need another stack of dogs from the freezer. You go. I'll take him today."

Sarah wanted to agree, but she couldn't help thinking it was a bad idea. "Maybe we shouldn't mess with him."

"Give me a chance to be the chivalrous hero," Scooter chuckled. "He shouldn't think he can stalk you like this."

Sarah gave him a stern I-can-take-care-of-myself look, but he returned it with a stern I'm-the-boss look.

"Can you for once let the man lead?" he criticized. It was a jab, referring back to the time he'd caught her 'mounting' Chuck in the supply closet. With a reluctant sigh, Sarah ducked into the back room. She made sure to take the horseradish container that had her spare gun and she kept her ears open and alert. The bell rang as three-o-clock wiener man entered. Scooter went through the pleasantries and took the order.

"Is Agent Walker unwell?" the man asked. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but what sent the alarm bells blaring was the fact that he called her 'Agent'. Ducking quickly to the back of the room, she radioed Casey, whispered urgently that she needed back-up, then edged to the door of the storeroom. There was shouting.

Scooter was telling the man he couldn't come behind the counter.

"Put the gun down!"

Hollering, begging, whining.

A thump.

Sarah pulled a shuriken from her belt, snuck around the corner of the door keeping low, spotted her target, and threw the blade, catching the man in the shoulder. Surprised and bleeding, the man turned on her, but not before she charged him, kicked his gun across the room, and clocked him with a roundhouse.

With an evil leer, he pulled the shuriken from his shoulder and slashed at the air, forcing her to keep her distance as he backed toward the door. The red-light flashed over the door sounding the store's general alarm. Sarah ran behind the counter where Scooter lay. He was unconscious, but alive. She radioed Casey again, updating him on the predicament, ordering him to get Chuck out of the shopping plaza and fast. She would take care of three-o-clock wiener man.

-----

The hand holding Sarah's was warm, sweaty, and desperate, but it was something she could feel and distinguish. She hated that she considered discernment of sensations a major accomplishment, but considering the day she'd had, it simply was.

"Hey, welcome back," Chuck cooed as she opened her eyes. For the first time that day, the world didn't appear hazy. In fact, she could see every one of the dark curls on his head; she could see the pores on his skin, and she could see that hint of a five-o-clock shadow signifying that he hadn't left the hospital yet. How many days had she been here? Maybe just one, but maybe more. Chuck's facial hair was slow in growing, so it was tough to tell.

"Chuck," she choked. Her throat was parched. "Did Casey … show you … Zer?"

"Yep," Chuck answered quickly. "He and what's-his-name are out there right now –"

"Who? What's whose name?"

"The guy from the CIA," Chuck shrugged. "You can officially rest now. You're off duty."

Sarah nodded, but instead of relief, she felt fear. If she hadn't been so dehydrated, she may have started crying. She knew Casey was starting to come around, but she also knew that Chuck hadn't been extracted largely because of her own campaigning. Who would fight for him now?

"I'm sorry, Chuck," she whimpered.

"No, don't be sorry," he soothed, stroking her cheek. "Ellie says you'll be back on your feet again and protecting me in no time. Well … I don't know that she knows about the protecting me."

Sarah sniffled dryly and pressed her cheek against Chuck's palm. "Ellie said you brought me in."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

She was proud of him for that, but didn't know how to say so. Chuck took her hand and kissed her knuckles, but the drugs had made her tingly, so she couldn't really feel it. She wondered vaguely if it would be okay to confess her feelings for him now that he wasn't her charge. She wondered if it would be okay to feel them. She probably shouldn't say anything until she could sort out how she felt to begin with.

"Sarah?" Chuck whispered, interrupting her thoughts. "What happens now?"

She looked at him tiredly, not knowing how to answer. Chuck's heart welled with uncertainty, seeing his greatest source of strength in this whole Intersect mess faltering.

"This new guy," Chuck continued. "He's meaner than Casey and I just … I need you here. I can't do this – I can't be the Intersect without you."

He looked at her desperately, but her head lolled to the side and her eyes closed again.

"Sarah?"

"Bartowski," Casey said brusquely, poking his head through the door. "We gotta go."

Chuck's chest heaved with emotion and he stood on wobbly legs. Looking at Sarah one last time, he smoothed the hair away from her face, kissed her forehead, and headed out.

"Chuck!" Sarah called weakly. He stopped on a dime, glad to see her awake. Casey's hand was on his shoulder though, preventing him from going back to her.

"You'll be fine," she encouraged. "I'll be back on my feet and protecting you again in no time."

Chuck smiled wistfully and let Casey direct him toward the elevators. He hung back when Sarah spoke again.

"John, don't let them extract him," she requested. "Not before I come back."

"That's not my choice, is it?" Casey said evenly, making Chuck shiver.

"Make it your choice," Sarah said, and both men shuddered at the store of womanly wrath behind the threat. As Sarah settled down to sleep again, Casey placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder and tipped his head toward the back stairs.

"Change of plan," was the only explanation he offered.

-----

_Post- A.N.: I'm thinking Part 2 will be called 'Convoluted Cover', because clearly there are details that need some light shed on them. Please comment with ideas, plot bunnies, and general accolades._


	2. Archnemesis

**Part 2: Archnemesis **

_(Wednesday, 11pm)_

Sarah had been coming and going out of conscious all day, and all Ellie kept saying was it was good she was moving. Chuck couldn't help but think he'd be more prepared if she died than if she lived and was forever debilitated. He'd never seen someone through a long recovery process and couldn't fathom the toll it might take on his life - especially if she were whipped away to some other government facility. Casey and the new guy had gone out to capture Hamisi Zer and they didn't need him for that job, but what about future missions? How would this Intersect thing play out with Ellie suspecting something every time Chuck ran out of the house? Now she would worry. Of course, the logical step would be to integrate Ellie into the missions so they could be a spy family ... or maybe something less deadly.

Sarah's final words as Casey herded him out of the hospital room were heartening. "I'll be back on my feet and protecting you again in no time." He'd said it earlier to calm her, but when she'd echoed the sentiment, it sounded like she actually believed it. She'd always been a good encourager, but he worried she was in denial. The weird thing was that when she threatened Casey, the big guy had flinched and redirected Chuck to the back door.

"Change of plan," he said.

Chuck didn't question and he looked hesitantly at Sarah as he passed the room again. Given a choice, Chuck would stay the whole night with Sarah, but choice was not his luxury anymore. Casey steered him away from the fifth floor reception desk, directed him through a hall adjacent to the burn ward, and kept going. It was long passed standard visiting hours so the hallways were sparsely populated with nurses, janitors, and other stubborn family members.

"Where are we going?"

"Out the back door," Casey said tersely.

"That much I can see. Why are we going out the back door?"

"Front door is blocked."

Chuck immediately tensed as Casey brought up his watch to radio Dasik. He nearly ran into an Asian man – or maybe the wall. The world went fuzzy the way it sometimes did before a flash, but Chuck could still feel his feet falling and Casey's hand on his elbow jerking him forward. His eyes were stinging, and Chuck figured he must be tired and have bumped one of those randomly placed pillars in the hall, because there was no flood of information. Except now the image of the Asian man was seared to his mind.

"Casey, what does he want?"

"Moon?" Casey asked, seeming annoyed. He pushed open the door to the stair well and directed Chuck down the steps faster than seemed reasonable. "He wants to contain you. You're a liability, Bartowski."

Chuck shook his head to clear it, letting Casey's words mix with Sarah's threat and the swirling fuzz from hitting the wall. "Why are we running away from Dasik? Is this about what Sarah said? You're not extracting me!"

"Not today. Extraction requires a clear path. Any diversion means we fall back to the safe zone and that means you get to sleep in your own bed."

"You're not making any sense."

"I'd explain, but you're a terrible liar. If Moon asks, you had a flash."

"Casey, I _did_ have a flash. He was in the hallway."

Casey grabbed Chuck's shoulder in a grip so firm that Chuck felt his feet leave the ground. He stumbled on the steps as Casey spun him around.

"Who? Who did you see?" Casey demanded.

Chuck stammered and pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to squeeze the image from the Intersect again. "I - what - he -"

"Casey! What is this?" Dasik hissed as he entered the stairwell from the bottom and climbed up to meet them.

"Unsub on floor five," Casey explained, then turned to Chuck. "Kid?"

"He - wh - I can't -"

"I don't need DaVinci," Casey carped, leaning in aggressively. "What did he look like?"

"Brown skin, Asian, cropped hair, evil." Chuck's hand flailed at the approximate height of the Asian man, but it all seemed fuzzy and unreal.

"I'll cover Walker for now. You get him out," Dasik ordered, his hand resting over a concealed weapon. Casey bristled, but he led Chuck outside and they found Casey's black SUV.

"That was the worst fake flash ever," Casey criticized.

Chuck massaged his temples, not even bothering to correct Casey. His brain hurt. "I see his face. It's clear as day, there's just nothing else there."

"You see his face?"

Chuck nodded and sighed heavily. Maybe he was too tired for the Intersect to work. But then, his own exhaustion had never hindered him before. Maybe the signal was degrading due to prolonged storage in a non-standard human brain device. Maybe the Intersect would eventually dissipate from his brain and the government would have no need -

"Get that notepad from the back seat and sketch what you can remember," Casey ordered gruffly.

"I'm not very good with sketches," Chuck warned.

"Then write a text-based code to reconstruct the facial pro-"

Chuck held up his hand to silence Casey as he reached back for the notepad. "You really shouldn't do 'nerd'. It doesn't suit you."

Taking a deep breath, Chuck blinked his eyes and tentatively sketched, making notes as to what the various elements _should_look like were a better artist conveying the shapes. When they reached their apartment complex, Casey snapped his fingers and took the notepad.

"This looks like Mr. Potato Head," he groused.

Chuck chuckled at the comparison, all the sudden struck with the image of a boy Casey playing with Mr. Potato Head and his bucket of parts. Aside from the disturbing 'bucket of parts' parallel, it was an uplifting image.

"He did bear striking resemblance."

"You want me to fax this to Washington?" Casey challenged patronizingly.

"There are text-based descriptors," Chuck pointed out. "See I drew circles, but I wrote walnut for the eyes. They were crinkly."

Casey looked away and clenched his fist angrily. "This is exactly the kind of thing that will get you shipped to a high security facility with padded walls."

"Well until the memory scan converter is perfected, you have to rely on my art skills," Chuck returned with as much defiance as he could muster. He wondered if Casey really cared about potential extraction or if he simply feared Sarah that much. Chuck inhaled softly as guilt swirled in. They'd just left Sarah there with Mr. Potato Head and Agent Moon.

"Do you think Sarah's okay?"

"Is Potato Head affiliated with Zer?"

Chuck shrugged. Despite his best efforts, there was nothing more to be known about Potato Head from this particular flash. Casey's face softened somewhat and he picked up the notepad again and walked to the fountain. It was a nice night for sitting outside.

"We'll work on the sketch, fax it to D.C. tonight, and see if there are any hits by the morning briefing," Casey said with resignation. "We don't want Moon to think you faked a flash to get rid of him."

"I didn't fake a flash," Chuck insisted.

Casey didn't say anything. He just sat by the fountain, penciling corrections to the sketch using Chuck's notes. His walnut eyes weren't quite right, so Chuck tried running through different nuts and legumes until they found something that worked. Casey wasn't a sketch artist by any stretch of the imagination, but he was better than Chuck.

-----

_(Thursday, 7am)_

Aside from working on the sketch, Casey had offered no other explanation for dragging Chuck from the hospital last night. Casey made some grumbling statements about Chuck needing to rest and be ready for work in the morning, but Chuck suspected that Casey didn't want to leave him alone in a place where he and Ellie might share secrets. Chuck desperately wanted to tell Ellie _something,_so Casey was probably wise to keep them apart and he knew Ellie wasn't leaving the hospital any time soon. Morgan had come over last night as was their traditional gaming schedule, but he hadn't forced anything because he knew Chuck was too distracted to make the game any fun. Chuck was glad for the company, though.

The morning was fueled by coffee and routine and Chuck shuffled his way to Casey's apartment. As soon as he walked inside, his senses came alive with the intensity of this alternate life. Chuck leaned against the wall and carefully extracted his everything bagel with sun-dried tomato cream cheese from the paper towel he'd wrapped it in and he munched while Casey puttered about doing other things. Chuck could see Ellie's picture on the computer screen and guessed that Casey was looking into his sister's background and clearance.

"Can't we please bring Ellie into the loop?" Chuck asked and Casey's face tightened. "I think her suspecting and second-guessing is far worse than her knowing what's going on. She'll suspect everything I do now."

"Eat over the sink; you're making a mess."

Chuck sighed disappointedly, knowing he'd been dismissed, but he went to the kitchen anyway, because he felt less guilty letting the poppy seeds fall into the sink. He recognized the motions of Casey setting up the secure connection to Washington and it made Chuck uneasy. It was the first time he had to face the General and Director without Sarah there to advocate for him. He hadn't spoken much to Dasik, but he didn't like what he did know. Chuck hadn't liked Casey at first, but he'd managed to find the hidden Sugar Bear underneath and it was only a matter of time before he found the humanity in Dasik - he hoped.

"So is Dasik going to work at the Wienerlicious too?"

Casey was still ignoring Chuck as much as possible. "His official cover is that he's one of the detectives covering the shooting."

"Oh, I have a bad record with fake detectives. The last one got killed by ... well, I suppose you were there."

Chuck had been trying for a joke, but seeing a man die wasn't funny. Conway wasn't an evil terrorist; he was CIA - one of the good guys. If Sarah hadn't asked him to wait, Conway wouldn't be dead. Chuck would've been on the chopper to nowhere which admittedly would've sucked, but then Sarah would've been assigned elsewhere and wouldn't have been shot by Zer or whoever did it. The bile rose in Chuck's throat, but he quickly swallowed the plague of might-have-beens.

"It's a shame though about Dasik and the Wienerlicious," Chuck said lightly. "I really liked the free hot dogs and I think that red vest would bring out his -"

"You best keep that opinion to yourself," Casey warned. A knock sounded at the door and Casey moved to answer. Chuck finished up his bagel and followed casually.

"Agent Moon isn't soft and sympathetic like Agent Walker," Casey continued. "He doesn't care that you want to stay here with your friends and he won't tolerate your jokes. He'll keep you living, but he won't coddle you like I do."

"C-coddle?" Chuck laughed incredulously and choked on his coffee. "Casey, may you never have children."

Casey had his gun in hand and checked the peep hole to verify who had come, even though he'd been expecting Dasik. Agent Moon was clean shaven, sharply dressed, and overly critical, especially when he saw Chuck. Instinctively, Chuck smoothed his own shirt and stood straighter.

"What's he doing here?" Dasik asked Casey. Chuck didn't like being treated like an object and spoke for himself.

"It's Thurs-"

"We may get fresh intel," Casey interrupted. "It saves a step if he's present."

"Plus, you know -"

Casey gave Chuck a warning look and he stopped talking and ducked his head. He let Casey stand in the middle as they hovered around the computer screen and camera that connected them to Washington. Chuck concentrated hard on keeping quiet and drinking his coffee. It felt cold and vulnerable standing on the outside of the group. If Casey had gone down and Sarah were standing next to him, Chuck figured he'd be okay, because Sarah had a way of reassuring him. Casey didn't seem to care whether Chuck _felt_ safe or not, so long as he _was_ safe.

"There are no hits off the sketch you sent," General Beckman was saying. "Have there been additional sightings?"

"No, General," Casey answered. "I'd still recommend a permanent guard posted by Agent Walker."

"Agent Moon?"

"I believe Mr. Bartowski may have overreacted," Dasik said and Chuck bristled. "My surveillance of the hospital has revealed no unusual behavior. Given Agent Walker's condition, it would be wise to move her to a secure location. She has a steady string of civilian visitors and considering her medication, that may represent a security risk."

"The civilian connection may be all the more reason to keep her in position," Casey countered. "Extracting her may point someone directly to the Intersect."

"Then we should extract the Intersect as well," Moon added.

"Have you learned any more about Zer?" Casey asked the General, steering the conversation in a not-extracting-Chuck direction.

"Zer is a contract mercenary," General Beckman answered. "He's keeping tight-lipped about who he was working for or whether Agent Walker was the final target."

"He wasn't the only shooter, General," Casey warned.

The General nodded. "Four of the shooters were taken out by snipers with only one fatally, but the others committed suicide before they could be questioned."

"A terrorist organization?" Dasik asked.

"None had priors," Director Graham pointed out. "Only one had record of affiliation with an organization called Allignton, but they've never been violent before."

"Allignton splintered from the Chetallis five years ago," Chuck said quietly as the name triggered a string of images. "Zer -"

"Hamisi Zer led the Chetallis for three years before he became an independent contractor," Dasik finished.

"Could be an old friend called in a favor," Casey said.

"I'll send a current listing of both Chetallis and Allignton members for Mr. Bartowski to review," Director Graham said.

Chuck blinked. He wasn't accustomed to his flashes being interrupted with corroborating intel, but it made sense since Dasik had worked close to that case. Casey was still looking at him with a mixture of expectation and gloating. The others had stopped talking, but information on the Chetallis still assaulted Chuck's mind.

"Chetallis is headed by Jonas Trechton and Ava Sirus. Membership includes Kallis, Jackson, Emolty, Cr - cr - ..." Chuck choked as the images stalled and the evil eyes seared to his mind.

"Him!" Chuck gasped. "It's him! Mr. Potato Head."

Chuck felt like his brain would explode - like the image of Potato Head was blocking any further information from the Intersect and the walls of the dam were ready to burst. He covered his mouth to keep from vomiting the information and dropped to one knee. Casey grabbed his elbow, but only to slow his fall.

"What is it, Bartowski?" Casey asked. "What's his name?"

"He's ... his face is there on the side, but he's ..."

Chuck had nothing and Casey gave up asking.

"I suppose we could still use that list, General," he said dryly.

Chuck barely heard the rest of the conversation because his insides were quivering from the strange flash. He wondered briefly if his own computer felt so pained when he messed with the files, and he started empathizing with artificial intelligence. Chuck sat on the floor so he wouldn't have to concentrate on standing. He backed up through the Chetallis intel and repeated the words with the hope that he'd eventually get over the roadblock and spill the rest. The words "file corrupted" floated ironically through his mind.

He jumped when someone flicked water in his face. Casey and Dasik were squatting near him, looking expectantly.

"I've read the reports," Dasik said, "But I take it this is not usual for a 'flash' as you call them."

Chuck looked shamefully at his knees, murmuring, "Trechton, Sirus, Kallis, Jackson, Emolty, Cr - cr -"

"Drop it, Bartowski," Casey said. "We'll have a list inside the hour."

"Let's go to the hospital," Chuck said.

Dasik looked at Casey accusingly. "This is exactly what I was talking about. He should not be giving you orders."

"That was a suggestion, not an order," Casey said to Dasik. His skin was so tight with repressed anger that Chuck could see his veins throbbing. "And we're going to work first. In fact, we're going now."

"The store is only two miles away," Dasik pointed out. "Your shift doesn't start for half an hour."

"L.A. Traffic."

"Major Casey, may I speak with you," Dasik whispered quietly. Casey pulled Chuck to his feet and propped him against a wall for support, and then he and Dasik walked to the other room while Chuck concentrated hard on not seeing Potato Head. The fire, pressure, and images subsided and the world resolved to its normal level of sight and sound. Chuck walked slowly, testing his feet to make sure they responded, and he went to the edge of the living room to eavesdrop.

"Major, I realize the three of you have developed a rapport, but you have continually discounted my contribution to this operation in favor of the civilian who is clearly unstable."

"I have been on this case longer than you," Casey warned. "I know what I'm doing."

"Zer has not been affiliated with the Chetallis for years. There are no friends calling in favors. Bartowski is clearly using this as a distraction to maintain the status quo."

The words hissed back and forth between the two men and Chuck noticed Casey's fists clenching at every hint that he'd gone soft, disobeyed orders, or put his own interests ahead of his country's. Chuck's own fists were clenching as Dasik continually challenged his integrity. Casey grabbed Dasik's collar and seethed, issuing threats without words, then pushed the other man away and motioned for Chuck to follow him. They were both stewing as Dasik followed their car to the BuyMore. As soon as they parked, Casey launched out of the car into the sanctuary of the store, but Chuck hung back, watching Dasik as he scoped the lot. Gathering the remnants of his composure and grace, he crossed the lot to Dasik's vehicle.

"Are you sticking around?" Chuck asked uncertainly. "You know, surveying the area."

"Not today," Dasik answered. "Major Casey will contact me if something comes up, and there is an entire strike team on alert ready to come here. I have to speak with Agent Walker."

"Does she have a strike team on alert too? Is someone -"

"She is not your concern. You go in there, savor your mediocre existence, and let me do my job."

Chuck nodded. His first attempt at finding humanity in Dasik Moon was met with Epic Fail.

"Bartowski," Dasik called and Chuck turned hopefully. The glower on Dasik's face was not encouraging.

"Yeah?"

"If you ever fake a flash and send me on a wild goose chase again, I will -"

Chuck didn't even wait for the accusation to finish. His blood boiled and before he could stop himself, he punched Dasik in the nose. His first thought was that he'd been slammed into brick walls with more give than that man's face, and perhaps Dasik was part machine sent from the future to destroy the human race. Dasik was not injured, but had been stunned into silence.

"People's lives are at stake," Chuck said firmly, even though his insides were quaking. "I don't fake flashes."

With that, he turned on his heels and walked determinedly through the front door of the BuyMore. Casey was trying to look disapproving, but he was laughing too hard.

-----

_(Thursday, 9am)_

Ellie paced between the window and the door of Sarah's hospital room. She'd given up biting her nails long ago, but never got out of the habit of bringing her fingers to her lips and mimicking the motion. She'd grabbed a few naps over the course of the night and Devon had brought her breakfast at near the crack of dawn. She'd told him the only information she was allowed to - Sarah was caught in the crossfire of a gun fight. Ellie didn't go to mentioning the fax she'd received from Washington with the classified medical documents showing the woman was a government agent and had been through hell and worse in less than a decade. Devon read the anxiety off Ellie's face, but couldn't know the depth of that emotional gut twist. Chuck had carried Sarah in. He was involved somehow, but Ellie was not free to ask how, nor did she want to know the details, for fear it would only freak her out more.

Pressing her eyes shut, she willed herself not to see his face again white as ash and smeared with blood. When her brother had run into the hospital, she'd been so focused on him that she hadn't even noticed Sarah lying there on the gurney.

"_It's not my blood," he said urgently. "It's Sarah! Help Sarah!"_

_Ellie's mind whirred at the sight. Her doctor instincts kicked in, but she didn't have the luxury of helping a friend when she was on a classified assignment waiting for an incoming agent._

"_I can't, Chuck, I'm –"_

"_Littlebird."_

"_What did you say?"_

"_Littlebird. Ellie, it's her. Help Sarah."_

Chuck had secrets and Ellie wanted to kill him for it. As grateful as she'd been to be freed to help Sarah, she'd been angry to be blindsided by her brother. She needed a break, but didn't dare leave the hospital since Sarah had murmured incoherently about the shooter the night before. The CIA had finally sent an agent to handle things, but rather than being on guard, he was sitting in the corner of the room waiting to question Sarah. The man was shorter than Devon or Chuck, but made of solid steel in a Bruce Willis-style mold. He wasn't nearly so charming, since he refused to smile, and he'd given Devon a disapproving glower when he'd stopped by.

A soft groan and a rustle of the bed sheets brought Ellie's attention back to the present. Despite her numerous injuries, Sarah had rolled onto her left side again. Ellie suspected it had to do with keeping the pressure off the injuries on her back, but considering the injuries to her left side, she couldn't see how the position was more comfortable.

"On your side again," Ellie commented. "Does that mean you're awake?"

"I'm thirsty," Sarah murmured. Sarah coughed and pounded her palm against the bed. Ellie wasn't sure if it was to distract herself from the pain or keep herself from falling on her stomach. She placed a hand on Sarah's shoulder to stabilize her and started a cursory exam.

"Can I -"

"Sit still or I'll strap you down," Ellie interrupted. Sarah opened her eyes and glared up at Ellie.

"Don't threaten me," Sarah growled. It was a mixture of a threat and a plea and it tore Ellie's heart to hear.

"Sarah, this is Agent Dasik Moon. He's going to figure out the cover and transition and agenty-CIA stuff."

"Agent Moon," Sarah greeted cordially, sounding strong despite her condition. "Have you been briefed on... my current assignment?"

Ellie shuddered to hear such words from the mouth of someone she'd once considered the girl next door. She always thought Sarah was too sharp to work at the Wienerlicious, but Chuck liked her too much to criticize.

"Dr. Bartowski, will you excuse us?" Agent Moon said coolly.

"Not. Right. Now," Ellie murmured as she worked. She made a face as the blood pressure monitor told her things it shouldn't and she checked the IV line to see if the drugs were being administered properly. Adjusting the dosage, she looked down at Sarah thoughtfully. "This is knocking you out a little too much."

Sarah wobbled again and tipped forward and Ellie caught her shoulder and forced her to lie on her back. The position made Sarah wheeze.

"Ellie," she gasped, calling out as if to a friend, not a doctor.

"Try to breathe normally," Ellie instructed as she adjusted the level of the bed. Drainage, pressure... Ellie was accustomed to working with specialists in cases this complex.

"Voila!" Ellie smiled triumphantly as Sarah's breathing evened out and she rested partially upright. "Now you're in a better position to drink."

It was a small and exhausted smile on Sarah's lips, but at least it was a smile. Ellie filled a cup with water from the tap and held it to Sarah's lips. Sarah splayed the fingers of her right hand, but made no effort to take hold of the cup. In fact, aside from rolling on her side every time she woke up and using the right arm to brace herself, Sarah rarely engaged any of her limbs. Cocking her head, Ellie examined Sarah's face, but with the black eye it was difficult to gauge whether the eyelids were drooping unevenly. She needed to consult with a specialist on this case and she didn't have time to wait for government approval.

"Will this take long?" Agent Moon asked, clearly exasperated at being kept waiting.

"Half an hour for the drugs to metabolize a little more. She'll be more coherent then."

"I'm fine," Sarah insisted, though Ellie was sure she was numb from the hair down.

Agent Moon sighed loudly. "I have other business to attend to this morning. Have her ready to speak at 11:30."

Ellie didn't bother watching him go. She was too busy trying to remember her neuroscience classes.

"He's stiff," she commented to Sarah, because it felt weird to be clinical.

"It's his job."

"Well I don't like him. He scares me and I don't trust him."

"He has our best interests at heart."

"If he has a heart."

"Ellie!" Sarah cried and Ellie laughed.

"I never liked you very much either," Ellie confessed. "I would've doubted you a lot more if Chuck hadn't backed you up in every lie."

Sarah made a face and then stared forward blankly. "My eyelashes feel funny."

"But no matter how crazy things seemed, I always sensed that you had Chuck's best interest at heart."

Ellie reclined the bed again and as soon as it was flat, Sarah rolled onto her side, as if compelled by some force of nature. Ellie considered the CIA agent both gently and critically. She leaned her face close to Sarah's and dropped her voice to a whisper.

"And since I trust that instinct, I'm going to tell you what I suspect, so you can protect my brother when you talk to Agent Moon this afternoon."

"Ellie," Sarah warned, but Ellie ignored her.

"I know you work for the CIA, but I don't know what your assignment is. I assume it has something to do with my brother seeing as you hang out so much."

"Chuck is a civilian."

Ellie furrowed her brow in frustration. "He seemed awfully confident when he came in with you. He was the one with the code."

Sarah didn't answer, but Ellie didn't notice. All she saw was her brother soaked in Sarah's blood and she felt herself shaking again.

"And why was he with you?" Ellie asked. "Does he follow you around on your assignments?"

"I swear to you, Ellie, your brother is a civilian."

"Civilian is government speak for 'we use him without training him'. No wonder he's been so ...ugh!" Ellie stepped away from the bed and walked in a frustrated circle. "They should at least put him through basic self-defense -"

"Ellie."

"It could've been him shot," Ellie cried.

Sarah said nothing.

Ellie pressed her eyes shut and reprimanded herself for losing her temper. "Is he under protection or general contract?"

"The less you know the better."

Ellie wiped the weariness from her face and chastised herself again. Sarah was injured, weak, and drugged and still she had the strength to maintain protocol. That was the strength Ellie lacked and if Chuck was a civilian, he lacked it too.

"Sarah ... sorry. Sorry. It's - he's my brother, you know. I saw him come in and he was covered in blood ..."

"I'm sorry," Sarah said. "I told them to get out. He doesn't listen sometimes."

_Them?_ Ellie couldn't help but wonder who else was out there, saving the world with her brother - or at the very least saving her brother.

"He just thinks with his heart, you know."

-----

_(Thursday, 7pm)_

Visitors were tiresome, but Sarah found them a welcome distraction from the pain and the hazy fog of the medicines. After Agent Moon's interrogation, she'd gotten Ellie to reduce the medication even more because she preferred the pain to the total loss of self she felt when drugged. She'd succumbed to drugs on too many levels - addiction, resistance training, torture. She felt alone.

It surprised her when Scooter walked in, and were it not for the hair, she wouldn't have recognized him without that ridiculous Wienerlicious uniform. His temple was purple and he had a long gash on his forehead held shut with $700 hospital-grade band-aids. He wore a brown button down shirt with a huge collar and he leaned awkwardly against the wall, unsure of what to say or where to look. Sarah could only guess at how horrific she looked herself, because she hadn't dared lift her head off the pillow in awhile.

"I told you not to mess with him," Sarah said, trying to break the ice with a light-hearted blame game.

"And I told you to go to the freezer," he countered. He tried to smile and failed, so he ended up looking uncertainly at his shoes. "The police say they caught the guy, but I think something else is going on because no one is talking about testifying in court or anything. Have they even talked to you?"

"They have me on the happy drugs," she lied, trying not to show how much it hurt just to breathe. "I'll be lucky if I remember you coming to talk to me."

"That's why I brought the card," he said dryly and they both shared a mirthless chuckle. He picked at his fingernails, occasionally sneaking glances in her direction.

"I was shot once," he confessed. He shifted on his feet and looked more uncertain as he continued. "I saw it coming, though. I could see it in his eyes."

He motioned at his eyes and paused. Then his jaw set and he looked guiltily at Sarah. "This time ... I knew this guy was seedy -"

"Scooter, this isn't your fault," Sarah said firmly.

Scooter ran his hands through his hair and tried very hard to look convinced. He made a rye joke to cover his guilt and they spoke intermittently about bad elevator music and gourmet corn dogs. Sarah was grateful when Chuck and Casey arrived. Chuck looked perturbed and immediately started pacing the room, occasionally shaking out his wrists. The knuckles on his right hand were bruised. Casey greeted Scooter pleasantly and chummed up to him the way he did when he was seeking information from a target. Scooter, however, was in no mood to chit-chat and he bowed out graciously.

"I'll leave you to your friends."

"See you at work on Monday!" Sarah called after him. He smiled genuinely and shook his head as he left, which was more than Sarah had hoped for.

"Where's ... what's-his-name?" she asked Casey and Chuck. They'd both perched on chairs in the room and neither seemed keen on chatter.

"Dasik," Casey supplied, then snickered. "Chucky-here gave him a bloody nose."

"What? Why?"

"He -"

"Dasik," Chuck interrupted, holding up a finger as if that could forestall judgment. "Is a very mean man."

Casey laughed outright at this and Chuck pointed an accusing finger.

"He told me to be assertive!"

"Assertive. Not stupid," Casey said, then turned conspiratorially to Sarah. "Didn't even make a dent, but shocked the hell out of him."

"He's my archnemesis now," Chuck said solemnly.

"Do you know how petty that sounds?" Sarah groaned at the complication, but Chuck rolled his eyes.

"Sarah, in the nerd-world, an archnemesis is a very important person. I've given him more lease to mess with my life than you ever had as girlfriend."

Sarah scrunched her nose, and squirmed uncomfortably as her gunshot wound started throbbing again. "So what else is going on?"

"Sorry, you're not in the loop anymore," Casey said haughtily. "We're just here to protect our cover."

"I'm here because I care," Chuck said and Sarah smiled. She clenched her fist and Chuck recognized the signal - he came to sit next to her bed and hold her hand.

"Is little John alive?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Casey said.

"My fish."

"You named the fish little John?" Chuck asked, seeming unhappy.

"Carina nearly killed that fish," Sarah explained. "Didn't I show you that picture of Casey all tied -"

"Nightmares. Yes," Chuck interrupted.

"Good times," Casey smiled, reclining against the wall. "I wonder what it says about you that you choose to commemorate me in that way."

"Please, stop with the visuals," Chuck begged. He covered his eyes, then peeked at Sarah.

"Sarah, are you alright? You're writhing," he said. He took her hand again, which only exacerbated the throbbing that started to permeate Sarah's entire body. "Do you need more -"

"No. I don't want more," Sarah said harshly.

"Sarah, you're in pain," Chuck pleaded.

"Chuck, no. I can't go down that road again."

"What road? What?"

Chuck looked panicky and even Casey came closer to the bed. Sarah reeled, but she wasn't sure if it was the present pain or a flashback.

"They pump you so full," she moaned, remembering and dreading that feeling of her strength dissolving. "They don't care. Just want you to keep going."

"Bartowski, take a walk," Casey said gruffly.

"No! I'm not leaving -"

Casey shot Chuck a look, then placed two fingers on Sarah's face. She gasped, but the world resolved almost immediately. Was she crying? Was that why she couldn't breathe?

"Sarah?" Chuck whimpered.

Casey pressed two more fingers, and her breath came.

"John..."

Chuck looked helplessly at Casey and Casey jerked his head toward the door.

"Twenty minutes," he said quietly. As soon as Chuck left, one of Casey's hands moved toward her neck or shoulder - it was difficult to tell. But as soon as the pressure was there, Sarah relaxed down to her elbows. With the next move, the tension drained all the way to her naval. It was a novelty, a blessing, and a terrifyingly powerless position.

"If you wanted me to do this again, you could've just asked," Casey teased her.

"I'm not asking now."

"I know," he said quietly. His touch was so peaceful. "I figure by the time you justify the decision to yourself, you'll be speaking so high only dogs could hear."

"Does that exclude you?" she joked.

He grunted, but kept working.

"You didn't have to bully Chuck out of the room like that."

Casey's lips twitched, the way he had when he didn't like how soft his motives seemed, regardless of whether they were right.

"The kid has enough images floating around in his brain. He doesn't need to see me touch you like this."

Sarah had never thought for a moment about how Casey was touching her. It was so peaceful, though. She spent a minute trying to visualize how it looked, but things became so mellow when he did this and she didn't want to ruin that. Ellie had seemed startled, but Casey hadn't stopped when she walked in. Still, sending Chuck out - Sarah was touched that Casey would protect her dignity like that.

"You tried to sit up again didn't you?" Casey jested. "That's why you're all twisted and aching. Did Agent Moon say something to rile you?"

"I can't see the door."

"Well you're the one that keeps rolling on your side like your body's on a springboard. If the nurses had their way, you'd be flat on your back."

Sarah swallowed hard and shivered. With shaky resolve, she whispered, "I'll be up again in no time."

"Sure you will," Casey chuckled. "Have you seen you? I don't know how much you can tell head to toe, so let's take a little tour, shall we. You got your right arm and that's fine, amazingly enough, until you reach that pinched shoulder, which I suppose is my fault for dragging you out of the crossfire."

He touched her shoulder and she squirmed, but it didn't ache anymore.

"Your left arm is another story," he continued. He placed his hand on hers, and she noticed for the first time how cold her left arm felt.

"I'm not quite sure why you're laying on it, but you have this fracture on the forearm, probably from blocking blows. I told you gauntlets would look hot with that uniform."

"Try not to drool from the thought," she said bravely.

"Your elbow is bruised to the bone and you're lucky it's not shattered. Working down we have these three bruised ribs here from getting kicked but you've had those since Saturday."

She winced as his fingers ghosted over the injury, but it was the first time she'd distinguished the broken ribs over the more generic pain.

"Saturday was ..."

"The Samaltu mission in Thousand Oaks."

"Right," she said softly. She remembered coming away from that with bruised ribs and a broken pair of high-heeled boots.

"Next we come across this gunshot wound, which has left you with a bruised_everything_no matter what Dr. Bartowski leads you to believe," Casey said cynically. He touched a few different places around the entrance and exit, placing enough pressure for her to feel the pull of the bandage tape on her skin, but it didn't add to the pain.

"There's a chip off the pelvic bone from the bullet. This leg here on top just has a slice from one of your ninja blades but is otherwise fine; and my favorite is this jammed toe here, but that's from a dance injury earlier in the week."

"Dance?" Sarah interrupted. "I kicked you in the shin."

"I've considered kicking you back, but your left leg - I don't know what your line of sight is, but the whole thing is in a cast. It's somewhat overkill for that particular fracture, but the Doc must've known you were fidgety."

Sarah lifted her head and tried to look down her body, but she did not see her cast leg. She squirmed, but could not distinguish her left leg from the pain. As far as she could tell, though, she could wriggle her toes and they didn't hurt at all. But Casey was right - she was essentially immobile, and that thought was a greater weight on her chest than all the pain from the injuries.

"I can't get out of here. Even if I wanted to," she murmured as the reality sank in. "I can't fight."

"You still have the one good arm," Casey joked, picking up her right arm and flapping it a little. She jerked it out of his hand.

"I'm trapped here; there's no way out. If something happened - if someone came -" She was hyperventilating - or at least starting to. Then Casey placed a hand on some pressure point, and breathing became easier.

"You don't think I'd leave my partner stranded, do you?" he said gently.

"I thought you were just here to protect your cover."

Casey smiled, but suppressed it. "That's why they let us come. If I didn't bring Chuck, he would've snuck out of the house, but I couldn't put it that way to the General..."

They both fell silent as she afforded him the dignity of having a heart without being mocked for it.

"Chuck flashed on an Asian man last night. We think he's associated somehow with Zer. He's affiliated with a group called the Chetallis, but we don't have a name yet."

"I thought I was out of the loop."

"He was here and he may be after you."

"Do you have a sketch?"

Casey harrumphed. "You don't want to see it. Moon was here last night, but said there was nothing unusual. Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging about?"

"I can't see the door," Sarah murmured. "A guard -"

"I requested that. I'm not sure what the deal is. So I made you this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device that looked like an Ipod shuffle. In fact, it was one that had probably been ripped apart and rewired into something more spy-like.

"Music?"

"Press the middle button twice and it'll page me."

Sarah looked uncertainly at the device, then placed it by her pillow. She flinched at the sound of someone clearing his throat behind her. Casey looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"Bartowski, come over here and let me show you this," Casey said.

Sarah pressed her eyes shut, frustrated at her own helplessness. Casey took her right hand and placed in Chuck's, then showed him the basic s of acupressure. The nausea and fear that she felt for her lost independence were eased by the gentle touch, but Sarah's heart still twisted with the feeling that the rug had so thoroughly been ripped out from under her.

"I'm doing it wrong, aren't I?" Chuck said, misreading the emotion on her face. He paused and looked guiltily from her hand to her eyes.

"No, don't stop," Sarah said weakly. "It helps."

-----

_(Thursday, 10pm)_

Chuck hadn't had a proper archnemesis since Bryce, and although he'd forgiven Bryce for the betrayal, his other friends didn't know that. Still since Bryce was officially dead now, he was a poor candidate for archnemesis. Dasik's unwittingly provoked right hook from Chuck occurred in full view of Morgan, Anna, and a sufficient number of others to earn him the title.

The evening waned and Chuck wandered out of the hospital room. Ellie was leaning tiredly against the wall in the same clothes as yesterday, wrapped up in Devon's arms as her fiancé tried to convince her to go home and get a proper night's sleep. Dasik and Casey were nearby, talking socially and Casey was eating pudding that he'd probably stolen from someone's food tray. Chuck rubbed his face and decided he'd join Devon in the plea to get Ellie to leave.

"How are you holding up?" she asked him as he approached. Absently, she picked up his hand and examined his bruised knuckles.

"I'm thinking of leaving soon," Chuck answered. "I can give you a ride home."

Ellie leaned back against Devon and twisted around to look at him.

"I'm on shift tonight, babe," he said. "I should probably get back downstairs."

Devon kissed her cheek, told her once more to go home, then headed back to the elevators. Ellie sighed tiredly and leaned against the wall.

Suddenly, her brow furrowed and she looked down the hall in confusion. Chuck followed her gaze. Morgan rounded the corner toward the desk carrying a large bear and half a dozen balloons.

"Hey, buddy," Chuck greeted. "Sarah's room is down the hall ... but you know that."

"Visiting hours are technically over," Ellie said. "How did you get past the front desk?"

"Oh, I have ways," Morgan said slyly, not even noticing the bristling response he got from Casey and Dasik.

"How did you come in?" Dasik demanded, stepping into the conversation.

Morgan looked uncertainly from Dasik to Chuck. Pointing a finger, he asked Chuck, "Isn't this the nemesis?"

"Archnemesis. Morgan, this is Dasik Moon. Dasik, Morgan."

"Weird," Morgan commented, stepping away from Dasik as he towered threateningly.

"Dasik is one of the detectives investigating the shooting," Chuck explained.

Morgan did a double-take. "You hit a cop?!"

Chuck shook his head in frustration and gave up explaining. "Did you want to put those things in Sarah's room?"

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, shifting his hold on the bear. "I went by, but the nurse was adjusting her medication and I don't like needles."

"Nurse?" Ellie asked, standing straighter.

They all started running toward the room before Morgan got another word in edgewise. A man in coral-green scrubs stood next to Sarah's bed injecting something into the IV. Chuck recognized Potato Head immediately and shouted as much. Potato Head abandoned his task, vaulted over the bed, slid under Chuck's legs and out the door. Dasik and Casey took up pursuit immediately as Ellie ran to Sarah's bedside. Chuck watched helplessly as Sarah started convulsing and Ellie called for a crash cart. His heart pounding, he ran to the hallway and saw Casey leaping sideways to tackle Potato Head as Dasik shouted and attacked from behind.

"Chuck, find Devon!" Ellie hollered at him. Chuck knew Ellie wasn't looking for comfort from her fiancé. In addition to being a Captain of Awesome, Devon was a master at biochem and minor poisons. He'd know what to do.

-----

_Post A.N.: Yes, of course TBC. I got water on it and fed it after midnight and now it's a fic gremlin! We'll see where it goes._


	3. Convoluted Cover

**3. Convoluted Cover**

-----

(_The Ides of March)_

Sarah inhaled sharply as consciousness found her. Her lungs burned and her mouth stung with contaminated air, acid, and choking dust. The stark whiteness of the room blinded her so painfully that she pressed her eyes closed again. Her cheeks itched and the tip of her nose was cold. She squirmed, but felt nothing. Was she healed or dead?

The soft thrum of machinery spoke of a medical facility, as did the stiff sheets tucked up to her chin and the plastic tube running under her nose. She inhaled again, this time feeling the euphoric effects of concentrated oxygen circulating under her nose. The itch on her cheeks was the pull of medical tape holding the tube in place. Cautiously, she opened her eyes again, squinting enough so that her eyes could adjust to the light in the stark, white room. It was difficult to remain calm in a place so void of life. This was not her hospital room.

Wriggling and tensing, she tested each muscle head to toe, trying to remember Casey's inventory of injury, but nothing struck her as being more than mildly uncomfortable. Either she had been unconscious long enough to heal or she'd been drugged numb, and as unsavory as it was, she much preferred the first. At least now she could lie on her back without wheezing or feeling the stab of the exit wound from being shot.

Lifting her arms, she tested and examined her hands and fingers. She must've been out for at least a few days, because all of her scrapes and shallow cuts had vanished. Her left wrist was still splinted, but it didn't hurt. The bruise on her elbow had faded to yellow and the joint moved easily. Slowly, she wedged up onto her elbows and lifted her head from the pillow. Her vision went spotty, but only briefly. She looked down her body, but it was covered with a white sheet, and she felt eerily like a corpse rising from the dead. She was dressed in a white hospital gown with a drafty back, but she'd woken up with less in more dire situations than this, so she wasn't concerned.

The first thing she felt was the tautness across her abdomen as she sat all the way up. Lifting her gown, she examined the entrance wound just above her right hip. Her skin was stitched and ugly, but most of the bruising was localized and faded. The surgery was at least two weeks behind her, based on that.

Yanking the sheet from the bed, she wrapped it around her shoulders so that the gown wouldn't seem so drafty. This uncovered the cast on her left leg extending mid-thigh to mid-calf, firmly bracing her knee. Smiling, she leaned forward and ran her fingers over the various endearments and signatures written on it with Sharpie. Chuck had clearly spent hours doodling on the cast using his stylized cartooning to convey past adventures. Morgan's haiku was written scandalously close to the top of the cast with a long streak that was clearly someone else swatting his hand away. Even Casey had left a signature and a doodle of a fat fish.

Her right leg was working fine and she shifted in the bed gingerly so she could swing it over the side. The oxygen tube yanked across her face and the IV tugged lightly at her arm. _They pump you so full of drugs; they just want you to keep going._ Sarah had no intention of staying here. With a deep breath, she shifted backwards so she could lean against the headboard for a moment. Why was she on oxygen? Why had she been moved from the other hospital? Was she even among friends? She was pretty sure the answer to the last one was yes, but given the lack of cards and flowers in the room, she clearly was not among civilians.

Looking analytically at the monitors behind her bed, she saw that her condition seemed stable enough. The IV was connected to nutrients at the moment, meaning she should expect atrophy in her system. She tested her voice and after a few croaks, found her vocal cords dry but functional. She called out a tentative hello, but the door to her room was closed. Running her fingers against her skin, she loosened the tape on her cheeks and removed the tube from under her nose. Next she carefully closed off the drip line and disconnected her IV. Then she scooted to the edge of the bed and slid onto the floor, which was difficult with the cast on her leg, but not impossible. The drugs had numbed her, but not sufficiently to shield her from the ice cold touch of the tiles against her bare feet.

Shivering, she pulled the sheet around her shoulders again and leaned against the bed until she felt stable enough on her feet to stand on her own. Her heart pounded in her chest, unaccustomed to the upright position after being bedridden so long. Her stomach tied in knots, but had nothing to vomit. Her first steps away from the bed were cautious and small. If they were going to pump her full of drugs, she could use it to her advantage - she'd been trained for that. Swallowing her doubts, she tottered across the room to the door. The handle didn't turn when she pulled it and she noticed a keypad next to the door. She was locked in. Why, for God's sake, was she locked in?

She knocked politely on the door, then shuffled back to the bed to look for a nurse-call button. She recognized this style of room - their goal was containment. A call-button was not standard, but an observation window was, and she saw no window. Maybe she was dead and this prison was her own personal hell.

Despite her pessimism, Sarah rustled through the bed sheets by the pillow, and though she found nothing to summon a nurse, she found the little turquoise former-Ipod-shuffle that Casey had given her in the hospital. She pressed the middle button twice, and then went in search of her own way out of this room. She had no idea what kind of battery life the thing had, and in all likelihood, she was in a Faraday shield zone and no signal would make it through anyway.

-----

_(Thursday 10pm, two weeks earlier)_

Casey picked up speed as they rounded the corner to Sarah's room. Any man that ran like that was up to no good, and Chuck's shout identifying the runner as Potato Head only confirmed the notion. Adrenaline surged, but Casey forced his senses outward rather than tunneling in on his target. The ability to remain hyper-aware of his surroundings in pursuit situations had kept him alive where others would've fallen. He could hear the steady puff of Agent Moon's breath half a step behind him. He took note of every civilian in the hallway that had pressed against the wall and cried out at the sight of weapons drawn. He anticipated and leaped over the patient that Potato Head had plowed through and knocked to the ground. When they rounded the corner, the white doctor coat had vanished, but Casey read the wary looks on the faces of those that belonged there as they eyed and ducked away from the man in blue scrubs walking too slow to be moving toward an emergency and too fast to be anyone but their target.

"That one," Casey said, nodding in the direction of Potato Head. Dasik kicked the shed coat sideways. Like pack wolves, they picked up pace, but their quarry was aware of them. Coming stealthily from the side, Casey moved fast as lighting, hard as steel and tackled Potato Head to the ground. He only got one punch in before he felt the sting of a blade slicing through the front of his shirt and cutting deep into the skin. Crying out a string of curses, Casey rolled out of the way and Dasik swooped in, kicking the blade from Potato Head's hand. The man had an escape plan and a defense, but he had not been expecting two agents to pursue him.

Blood slickened Casey's hand as he pressed it over his wounded chest. He sat up and radioed for help as Dasik pursued their target into the stairwell. Pushing to his feet, Casey joined the chase, realizing immediately that Potato Head was fast, lithe, and not alone. Gunshots rang from somewhere above and Casey sounded the general alarm. Dasik and Potato Head were two stories down. Casey dashed down the stairs, nearly getting clobbered as the door opened and a civilian doctor entered. With hushed words of warning, Casey wrapped and arm around the man's chest and pulled him back into the hallway.

"Not the day to take the stairs," Casey informed him. He pulled his badge, to justify his gun. "N.S.A. Get lazy and use the elevator."

"You're hurt," the doctor said, reacting without thinking. The doctor pulled at the remnants of Casey's shirt to get a closer look at the knife wound, but Casey warned him off and told him to contact security and keep people out of that stairwell. Taking his own advice, he went to the main stairs and flew down the steps three at a time. Once at ground level, he swerved through the lobby toward the back well just as Potato Head came out. Casey felled him with a single shot to the chest.

"Don't move," he ordered, as if the man had a choice.

The door to the stair well burst open, but no one came through. The silence was deafening; the crossfire from the upper floors had ceased.

"Drop the gun!" Dasik hollered, the barrel of his own gun peaking out from behind the door.

"I got here first," Casey said dryly, holstering his own weapon as Dasik edged out of the well. Dasik radioed their back-up seeking information on the other shooters while Casey flagged down a doctor to see to Potato Head. Whoever the man was, he had no identification and he wouldn't be talking any time soon with that hole in his chest.

"You should see a doctor," Dasik said, pointing to Casey's blood-stained shirt. As the adrenaline faded, he felt the throbbing of blood through his veins and the sting of the open air in the wound. It wasn't a deep cut, but it would need stitches.

"You should also get back upstairs if you have any hope of maintaining a civilian cover. Too many people here know you from your cover life."

Nodding, Casey left Dasik to deal with Potato Head and ran back to Agent Walker's room on the fifth floor. He stayed outside, watching through the window because the room was more of a whirlwind than the shooter-filled stairwell had been. Devon held the vial with the poison to the light, examining it a few different ways and giving instructions for things to try based on his hypotheses. Ellie was calling the shots, keeping paddles primed for every time Sarah's heart stopped. A nurse held an oxygen mask to Sarah's face, another stood bed side calling stats and vitals whenever such things were requested. Chuck was backed into a corner, out of the way, face ash-white.

"I'm taking this to the lab," Devon said, rushing out with the poison, nearly bumping Casey as he went. He stopped immediately when he saw the blood on Casey's shirt. Without a moment's hesitation or questioning, he pushed Casey's hand aside and gave the wound a cursory examination.

"Tracy!" Devon called, looking down the hall and summoning an intern. "Clean and suture."

Devon didn't have time for more words. He patted Casey once on the shoulder as acknowledgment of humanity, then ran off, keeping the half-full vial of poison close to his chest. The intern tried to direct Casey out of the hallway and into a room, but gave up almost as quickly when she received a death glare. Once Sarah was stabilized, Ellie backed against the wall, sighed in exhaustion, frustration, and fear, then looked out into the hallway directly at Casey. He couldn't tell if she was simply overwhelmed by what had happened or if she suspected him and his cover was blown. The more she knew, the more dangerous it was for her, so he saw no point in verifying her suspicions if she had any.

Morgan waited for the doctors to clear out before he tried approaching the room again. He kept his head turned away from the intern sewing up the gash in Casey's chest, but he touched Casey's shoulder from behind and said, "You tried, man. You tried."

He released the balloons as soon as he came through the door of the hospital room and sat down on the floor next to Chuck. Chuck blinked and nodded in response to whatever Morgan was saying to him and for the first time ever, Casey was glad that Morgan was there. Bartowski was shaken and Morgan was his friend.

-----

_(Friday, 8pm)_

Casey wasn't surprised that Agent Moon had arranged for Walker's transfer to a secure facility as soon as she was stable enough to move. It was best for all involved considering they hadn't managed to capture any of the shooters at the hospital and Potato Head was still in critical condition. Even with photo and finger prints, they hadn't yet found a name for the man, but it had been less than a day since his capture, so Casey was certain something would come up.

Despite the trauma of the night before, Casey had insisted that Chuck go to work the next day, since they couldn't both call in sick and Casey wasn't about to leave Chuck and Ellie home the entire day without supervision. Dasik was still pursuing leads at the hospital and couldn't be bothered with the Intersect, so Casey felt he was pretty much on his own. It was strange, because he'd hated having a partner and he'd wanted to handle the case on his own from the beginning. Casey shook his head to clear any wistful thoughts. It was the disruption in the rhythm of the assignment that was irking him, not Sarah's absence – Agent Walker's absence.

When Casey and Chuck returned from the BuyMore, Casey set some vegetables to steam, cleaned and re-bandaged the area around his stitches, and set the switches for a night of eavesdropping on the Intersect.

"Do you think she'll wake up?" Chuck was asking tiredly.

"Of course she will."

Casey recognized the weariness of their voices, and guessed them both slumped on the couch.

"That's the supportive big sister answer," Chuck said. "What do you really think?"

"She only got half the dose. There's no known counter-agent, because it's usually instantly lethal ... the fact that she's living is something, but it's not much. She had so many other things in her system. I wish I'd known the real her."

Casey bristled. Both had been warned by Agent Moon that they should not even be hinting at the existence of their alternate lives.

"It all happened so suddenly, you know," Chuck murmured. "I went to bed one night and I was Chuck. The next morning, I have all these secrets and my life –"

"You don't have to apologize to me," Ellie said. "Just don't die ... or get shot and poisoned ..."

"There was that once, you were hit with the truth serum –"

Casey groaned again. They were in forbidden territory.

"– and you told me you stole money from my room when we were kids. But you never mentioned having government clearance."

"It never seemed like a big deal to me. I had the clearance in case I overheard something, but I never did hear any secrets worth mentioning. Now I'm on egg shells wondering who's going to turn out to be part of your secret –"

Swearing loudly, Casey threw down his head set, secured his apartment, and darted across the courtyard, knocking loudly on Bartowski's door. Chuck answered.

"Morgan usually uses the window," Ellie commented, peeking over the back of the couch and looking confused.

"Hey, big guy," Chuck greeted casually, pretending he'd forgotten that he had no private life.

"Did you forget the order to keep your mouth shut?" Casey growled, leaning in close and keeping his voice hushed. Ellie had not been told about Casey, so he wasn't allowed to threaten her. Chuck was still fair game.

"Do you really want to play with your sister's life –"

Chuck rolled his eyes and walked away. He'd been pretty cocky since he punched Dasik… probably because Dasik didn't kill him back.

"Hey, John," Ellie greeted pleasantly. "Did you need something? Are the stitches bothering you?"

Suppressing his annoyance, Casey adopted the sympathetic neighbor look. "I was just thinking about Sarah ... didn't want to be thinking alone."

Ellie looked at him skeptically, and Casey knew that since Sarah had been uncovered, she'd been waiting to be blindsided again. He knew from eavesdropping that she even suspected Devon, so Casey tried not to take it personally. He told himself that she simply wasn't believing him about the stitches not bothering him, because if he weren't so accustomed to being injured and sewn together again, they probably would.

"We were just going to watch a movie," she explained as Chuck ambled back to the living room. "Chuck, what are we watching?"

"Serenity!" Morgan cried, appearing from Chuck's room, having used his traditional entrance.

"No," Ellie said firmly. "Not again."

"Morgan, remember how we talked about moderation," Chuck called from the living room, though he wasn't engaged in the conversation.

"But it's good!" Morgan protested, finding his way to the kitchen and checking the fridge. The kid certainly made himself at home here, more so than Casey thought he had a right to.

"Where is Captain Awesome?" Morgan asked, coming back from the kitchen with a bag of grapes.

"_Devon," _Ellie corrected, snatching the bag from him and leaving him with only a step. "He is at the lab, still working on tracing that poison."

"I thought the police took that," Casey said.

"And their techs consult with the local expert," Ellie said proudly. "It's not often he gets so much of the original sample."

Alarm bells blared in Casey's head and he made a note to call Dasik at the earliest possible moment. As Ellie returned the grapes to the refrigerator, Chuck wandered in with a stack of DVD boxes.

"Pirates?"

"That's more of a rum movie," Morgan said thoughtfully. "Ellie mentioned Umbria."

"Umbria?" Casey repeated. It was an Italian wine – one he'd shared with Ilsa the first night they were together.

"I have a few patients that are foreigners," Ellie explained. "They go home and they bring me back their native liquor. This bottle came from Rome ..."

Casey's breath caught at the mention of Rome and Ellie cocked her head.

"Okay, that was a real pout," she grinned, taking his arm and leading him to the couch. "What was her name?"

-----

(_Saturday, 2pm)_

Chuck leaned his elbows on the counter of the Nerd Herd desk as he examined the laptop in front of him. His brain was only partially functioning, but fortunately this job wasn't so demanding 99.99 percent of the time.

"My husband keeps telling me I'm crazy," the customer prattled. "If I had a screw loose, this wouldn't be a problem. The screw head is stripped and I can't get it out."

"It happens all the time," Chuck murmured as he reached for the tool he needed, removed said screw, and returned the now dismantled laptop to the owner. "Have fun."

"Thank you."

Chuck rubbed his eyes, glanced over at Casey to make sure the big guy wasn't about to clobber any customers, and then leaned his elbows on the desk. The BuyMore was Chuck's domain most days, and as much as Casey could play the part of needy neighbor for an hour or two, it was Chuck that watched out for Casey when they were here, not the other way around. Chuck needed a break – maybe a Bartowski sandwich. It had been awhile since he'd wandered into Lou's shop and he didn't know if he was still on the menu. The Wienerlicious had been closed since … had it really only been four days? Four days with no free corn dogs and an eternity of fear, confusion, and pain.

Chuck stood straighter when he recognized the man striding angrily toward the Nerd Herd desk as Sarah's boss, Scooter.

"She's not at the hospital," he said as soon as they were within reasonable speaking distance. "They won't tell me where she is. She doesn't have a phone."

"She's fine," Chuck said as he tried to recall the details of the cover that Agent Moon had spouted to him exactly once after he'd been awake for 22 hours.

"Please tell me she's got hospice or something. I know what getting shot is like. No way should she be on her own right now."

Chuck started to speak again, but stumbled over his words. "You were shot?"

Scooter didn't get a chance to answer before Dasik crowded to the desk as well. Why did duty always call fifteen minutes before lunch time and last all afternoon?

"May I speak to you, Mr. Bartowski."

"Sure. D - Detective Moon." Chuck remembered the title and congratulated himself. He waved his hand between Scooter and Dasik. "This is Sarah's boss from ... over ... there."

"Yes, we met the other day," Scooter said as he shook Dasik's hand. "You're working on the case."

"I am. Perhaps you can help."

"Anything."

Dasik pulled the photo of Potato Head and Chuck averted his eyes before the image could trigger another dizzying half-flash.

"Have you seen this man before?"

"Yeah," Scooter answered almost immediately, sounding perplexed. "I don't think he's a local. Is this related to the case?"

"He is a person of interest," Dasik acknowledged. "Why do you say he's not local?"

Scooter shrugged. "Dress. Manner. When he came in, he looked like he was on some other business. I remember because I asked him to leave."

"Was he disruptive?"

"No. He came in just before lunch rush, sat at a table, and never ordered. I told him the tables were for customers and he needed to buy food or leave."

"And then he left?"

"No," Scooter said again. "He bought a couple dogs and stayed another hour until the rush ended. I was annoyed that he kept the table blocked, but then he left a huge tip and most people don't tip at all."

"Did he pay by cash or credit?"

"Credit."

Dasik nodded. "If you can give me the receipts for that day –"

"I don't remember the day," Scooter interrupted. "It was a few weeks ago. Just look for a charge of $19.97. I remember thinking it odd, because the tip had uneven change and most people that do that round the total to an even number. But he didn't do $20, he did $19.97. It's not a common total when people order a meal, or a value pack, or ... anything. Corporate would have the records."

"Thank you for your time," Dasik said cordially and dismissively. "If there's anything else you remember –"

"I've never seen a first name like his," Scooter murmured, squinting his eyes as he tried to see. "His name was Croy something."

Chuck's world went gray as a flood of information punched through the barrier that had been blocking the Intersect. Ties to eight different organizations, never as a leader, but suspected as a puppet master –

"Are you alright?" Scooter interrupted the flash. Apparently he'd stopped speaking when he saw the look on Chuck's face.

"Yeah, I'm…" Chuck stammered, looking from Scooter to Dasik. Then he ran off to find Casey.

-----

(_The Ides of March)_

The drop ceiling didn't look penetrable, but it was her best hope of getting out. This was not a typical containment room, so it was possible it was less secure. Sarah had no flash light and the only way into the ceiling was an air vent, that hopefully was supplying top-quality hospital-grade purified air. Truthfully, she'd be lucky to get the vent cover off and even so, wouldn't fit more than her head inside. But no one had noticed the beeping instruments proclaiming her death since she'd disconnected herself from the machine and she couldn't just sit around and do nothing. The drugs would wear off sooner or later.

It took some work, but she managed to pull one of the metal braces out of her wrist splint and that would get the screws out of the vent cover - she hoped. She pushed the bed under the vent and cursed her way to standing. The ceiling was still too high to brace herself against it, so she tottered unevenly and reached up with the metal strip. She needed a Phillip's head, not a flat head screwdriver. Grunting with exertion, she pressed on.

"Now there's a view."

Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Casey's voice and she would've fallen were it not for his hands on her hips, stabilizing her. He wasn't guiding her to sit or anything, he was just holding her steady, curious to see if she'd reach for the ceiling again. Given that he must've come through the front door, such alternate routes were no longer necessary.

"Get me out of her," she said, startled at the gruffness of her own voice. She placed her hands on his shoulders, using him for support as she jumped off the bed. He lowered her carefully to the floor and let go so she was standing on her own.

"This is not an emergency," he pointed out.

She wasn't listening; she was already hobbling to the door. "What's the code?"

"I gave you that page for emergencies," he said patiently.

"Casey, please."

Casey folded his arms and leaned against the wall, eying her critically. His jaw moved like he wanted to speak but wouldn't let himself, and he had that deep, lost look in his eyes like he couldn't believe he was watching her walk around just now. Sarah knew she was likely to exacerbate her wounds doing so, but she could not suppress the instinct to escape from this place.

Forcing reason to the forefront, she hobbled back to the bed, leaned on her elbows to get weight off her leg, and pulled the sheet around her shoulders like a robe. She wished desperately for a bath, even though it felt like the hospital staff had kept her relatively clean. Casey still hadn't moved and if he was this calm, she could be too.

"How's Chuck?"

"He's not your concern at the moment," Casey said airily. "He is, however, my concern and I'd be protecting him right now if I weren't here bailing you out of this life-and-death situation."

Sarah's jaw tensed and she looked over her shoulder at the door. "Why am I locked up in here? No one came when the monitors flat-lined."

Casey's features tensed and he looked at the floor. His head bobbed side-to-side as he weighed his response and chose his words. She half expected him to tell her sorry, she was in fact dead, welcome to hell.

"You were poisoned," he finally said. "It's been two weeks. I suppose no one was watching close because after the first few days, no one expected you to wake up again... ever."

"So why lock the door? Why ..."

She paused as the last half of what he'd said sunk in.

"Ever?" she repeated.

He nodded and finally dared meet her eye.

"Where are the doctors now?" she asked, wondering sincerely if she was okay or if she'd entered some walking ghost phase before she finally kicked.

"I told them to let me come in first. You have a violent streak, you know." He smiled anemically, then looked sideways to divert his emotions. "Are you going to let them treat you or are you going to cut them down and run away?"

Sarah was starting to get upset by how deeply affected he seemed. "Who did this?"

"Does the name Croyden Yang mean anything to you?" Casey asked.

"Croy," Sarah breathed, her heart sinking. "Oh, God. I knew he recognized me, but he never came back after that day."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Casey asked. He was angry with her! And he had a right to be considering all that had happened.

"I told Director Graham," she defended. "He said he'd put another agent on it and Croy never came back after that day. There's no reason to assume he knows anything about my current assignment."

"Former assignment."

The words stung, but Sarah didn't object.

"We were partners, Walker. Don't you think you might have passed along a name or a picture? You worked with the goddamned Intersect! Did you not think it was worth a mention to see if we could parse out why the man came to town?!"

Sarah leaned more heavily on the bed, but it couldn't support the weight of her guilt and she sank slowly to the floor. Casey caught her by the arm.

"Oh, no, you don't get to play weak now," he said gruffly.

"Did you catch him?"

Casey shook his head. "He escaped Federal custody two days ago and he's gone deep, but he had Zer staking out the Wienerlicious for over a week and that day when you were shot, he had at least five shooters at the shopping plaza, meaning he was entrenched and planning something major. He stalked the hospital himself and when he poisoned you, he had shooters lined along his exit track. Different shooters, because his first five from the shopping plaza were dead. This man has gone a long way to hunt you down and kill you, so you'll understand if I'm not too eager to spring you from this very secure facility."

Sarah swallowed defiantly. "What does Chuck know about him?"

"Bits and pieces at best. It's as if his name was deleted from the Intersect."

"Maybe it was," Sarah breathed. She stood straighter as the logic presented itself. "The reason I didn't tell you about the sighting – the reason I only told the Director… Croy was an agent. He was part of one of those projects so classified that I could get shot here and now just for telling you this."

Casey cocked his head. "Croy was assigned to infiltrate the Chetallis?"

"I don't know exactly. He had his fingers in so many pots, it was never clear who was the puppet and who was the master. Bryce and I were trying to flush him out when he fell off the grid. We were debriefed, warned against talking, and assigned elsewhere."

She took a few breaths and looked directly at her partner. Despite the increased risk of sharing the information, they were both stronger and better equipped to defend themselves because of it.

"But why would he come after me?" she asked. "After all this time ... he must know about Chuck."

"Then why not go after Chuck directly?" Casey countered. "He's been close to the kid a hundred times; why not just take him?

Sarah shifted the sheet wrapped around her shoulders as she thought. "Maybe he already is. Croy is methodical, controlling, and connected. He'll make everything look legitimate until the last possible moment, even using unwitting people that happen to have aligned agendas. He'll place people in just the right position –"

"Like a CIA Agent hell-bent on overseeing the Intersect's extraction."

Their eyes met, sharing a string of unspoken curses that always came on the threshold of the heart-pumping, life-threatening, hell-in-a-hand-basket adventures they both lived for. Casey groaned again when he recognized the fire in her eyes and realized Sarah was not about to sit this one out.

-----

_Part 4 (final section) coming soon… Please comment. _


	4. Call it a win

**Call it a win**

Sarah hissed as the SUV hit a bump and she was nearly jostled off the back seat. With her left leg in a cast, she had to sit sideways across the back and hold on for dear life. The only reason Sarah was in the car was that Chuck was in mortal peril and Casey had no time to argue. Casey checked the rear view to make sure she was okay, but he didn't speak.

"Well," she grunted as she resettled. "You were right about this being a bad idea."

She was starting to feel the effects of having been unconscious for two weeks straight – the weakness of her muscles, the abject protests from every internal organ about being upright. Queasiness did not begin to describe it, and if she could've bent that stupid knee, she would've tried lying down.

"Can't turn back now," Casey said. "There're clothes for you in that black duffel."

Sarah looked quizzically at the black duffel on the floor. Casey had expected to take her out of the hospital. Gingerly, she twisted her torso, reached down for the bag, and pulled it into her lap. He'd clearly been to her apartment, because she recognized the navy blue polo dress.

"You brought me a dress?"

Casey shrugged. "Your leg's in a cast and you have a bullet wound on your hip. Did you want me to bring those tight jeans?"

Sarah blinked, surprised by the foresight. "No... thanks ..."

Casey took another sharp turn and she noticed he had his phone in hand.

"They must've started," he muttered.

Sarah's breath hitched. "I told you not to extract him until I got back."

"Remember when I said you weren't coming back?"

Sarah tried not to think about that fact as she wriggled her way into the dress and Casey changed direction again.

"Do you know where they are?"

"No idea. Dasik's not answering."

Sarah leaned forward and held out her hand. "Give me the phone."

"Right. He's sure to answer if you call," Casey said sarcastically as she swiped the phone from his hand and dialed. Ellie picked up on the first ring.

"Ellie, hi –"

"Sarah?" she interrupted, her voice intense and confused. "You're … not dead."

"Why? Are there rumors?" she asked, then remembered she didn't have time to play around. "Have you seen Chuck?"

Ellie didn't speak for a minute and Sarah waited for the shock to resolve into words.

"Is it really you?" Ellie finally said.

"Chuck may be in danger –"

"I know, Sarah, it was the weirdest thing," Ellie said quickly. In the space of a breath, the words poured from her mouth like water from a floodgate. Sarah almost couldn't keep up.

"Casey was over and he got a page and he dashed out like his tail was on fire," Ellie began and Sarah grinned at her partner.

Ellie continued, "Ten minutes later, Dasik came in and it was creepy – I know something bad is happening and – hold on."

The phone went silent a few minutes and then Sarah heard a string of muffled curses. Ellie's speech wasn't in her typical pacing around the house rhythm and that was worrying.

"Ellie, where are you?" Sarah asked.

"I'm in my car following them, of course."

"She's in pursuit," Sarah told Casey, then pressed the phone to her ear and asked Ellie, "What street are you on? We'll meet you."

"Are you in a car?" Ellie cried incredulously. "Sarah, unless you've had a body transplant –"

"Yes, I'm in a car," Sarah interrupted. "What street?"

-----

Chuck felt much calmer on this extraction than the last one. Maybe it was because he'd been through an almost-extraction before so he was more prepared for the feelings that were coming up. Maybe it was because he'd spoken with Dasik and Casey about this event and he knew it would be happening soon – especially with Sarah dead. The thought of Sarah's death hurt more than anything else. He figured by the way Casey had run out and Dasik had come in that Sarah was gone. She shouldn't have died for him. No one should have, and that's why he had to leave. He was Chuck. Just Chuck. And he'd take his own bullets thank you very much.

Dasik hadn't said a word to him since they'd gotten in the car, but after two weeks of saving the world together, Chuck had become comfortable with Dasik's silences. He'd concluded with almost 100 certainty that Dasik was in fact an android because he was lethal in combat situations and had absolutely no sense of humor. Morgan agreed with him (not about the combat, but about the lack of humor). Sighing heavily, Chuck tried not to dwell on the fact that his life as he knew it was over. He was still in his work clothes and he couldn't bring himself to take off that ridiculous pencil tie or remove the Nerd Herd badge from the shirt pocket. He refused to think about what would happen to those he left behind. Ellie would be fine. She would understand. Morgan would not.

"Your sister is following us," Dasik said neutrally.

Chuck looked behind and recognized his sister's car. Joy, hope, and laughter swelled in his chest at the sight of his big sister chasing after him, not willing to say good-bye. He wanted to call her and tell her that proper spies always hang back three car lengths when tailing someone, but Dasik had confiscated his phone.

"You're not so good at espionage yourself," Chuck joked. "You didn't make it look like a casual trip when you came to get me. You also didn't use you Intersect-business glower."

He looked back at his sister's car again and smiled. The glare off the windshield prevented him from seeing her face, but he could picture those intense eyes and the way her lips pursed when she worried. She was an aggressive driver, too, and Chuck always found that scary when he was in the car with her.

"Major Casey was supposed to be with you," Dasik grumbled. "I don't know where he went, but it's not important."

Chuck wondered where Casey was too, but he was too delighted to see Ellie out the back window. Dasik didn't seem to be pulling any tricks to lose the other car, but when they arrived at the airfield, the security fences were sufficient to force Ellie to veer away and Chuck whispered a silent good-bye.

"I will escort you on the chopper to the first transfer point. There will be three more transfers after, but I only know who I hand you off to. It makes the trail back to you a bit longer," Dasik explained. "Keep alert and trust your gut."

Chuck felt his palms go sweaty as the gate closed behind him, sealing him off from his past. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Don't freak out," he murmured to himself, though he couldn't hide the silent prayer for Sarah to jump out of nowhere and rescue him.

They drove past a series of hangers with odd names and open doors, housing small planes and helicopters along a curvy road. After about a mile, they reached the launch square where a helicopter sat idling and a man in blue coveralls circled it making final checks. Dasik pulled into a parking space near the last hanger and dropped the car keys in a lock-box so someone else could retrieve the car later. He spent a few minutes gathering his things from the car, but there wasn't much in it. Chuck slid slowly out of the back seat, his head hung low. The overcast sky dampened his mood.

Chuck didn't pay much attention as Dasik engaged the man in blue coveralls. He looked at the man as was his habit, but didn't flash. The man was saying that Dasik was not meant to be on the helicopter and they weren't properly prepared for an extra passenger on the journey. Dasik told the man sternly that his presence was not optional and if need be he would fly the helicopter to the destination. Apparently all agents went to flight school – or at least all the ones they sent to protect the Intersect. Chuck took a step toward the helicopter, trying to get over the dread that came from the day he'd wound up flying one by accident. Chuck didn't like choppers except in video games.

Dasik and the other man ended in a stalemate with both stepping away and reaching for phones to contact their superiors.

"Eyes up, Intersect," Dasik murmured, pulling Chuck away from the chopper. "Distracted means dead."

"This isn't a mission," Chuck grumbled.

"Nor is it a family vacation," Dasik spat crisply. Chuck swallowed his bitterness and tried to think happy thoughts.

"Do you know I live 25 miles from Disneyland," he mused. "Twenty-five miles and I haven't been in years."

"Is this man raising a red flag?" Dasik interrupted.

Chuck shook his head sadly. "No."

Dasik nodded, looked at his phone angrily, and pocketed it since he got no service. Then he pulled out the phone he'd confiscated from Chuck. Chuck looked mournfully at that last link to his friends and family, then he carefully considered the man in blue coveralls.

"He identified himself, right? He's the right guy, right?"

Dasik eyed the man warily, making Chuck's stomach flutter.

"Don't get in the chopper first," Dasik ordered him.

"What?"

"Stay behind me. It's a gut feeling."

Inhaling sharply, Chuck's senses came to full alert and he tried to see what the man in blue coveralls was actually doing leaning through the door of the chopper. Chuck had gotten a lot of bruises from Dasik's gut feelings over the week, but he figured he'd be dead five times over without them. He'd been pushed, pulled, tossed, dragged, and at one point twirled out of the line of fire. So when Dasik's hands came up, Chuck didn't wait to be pushed again – he threw himself behind the car.

-----

Ellie's heart was pounding as she veered off and lost sight of the car with her brother in it, but Sarah had said to meet them at a second entrance around the block. She jumped out of her skin as a black SUV whirled around the corner and skidded to a halt right next to her car. She shifted into gear, prepared to run, but the back door of the SUV opened and she recognized Sarah sitting sideways across the seat. Sarah's body was withered and her skin pale. Her eyes were glassy from being over-medicated, but intense despite that. Throwing her car into park, Ellie grabbed a blanket and medical bag from her back seat and dashed over to help.

She froze when John Casey jumped out of the driver's side and ran toward the gate at the entrance. Her hands trembled and words fled as once again the world as she knew it shifted ninety degrees into the unreal. She'd suspected Casey, but then she'd suspected everyone – even Devon. Casey entered a code at the gate-house, but the gate failed to open. He was swearing loudly as he ran back to the car.

"Turn off your car," he ordered as he ran past Ellie. Ellie stumbled through her shock to the open door of the SUV and threw the blanket over Sarah. She tried not to watch as Casey darted to the rear of the SUV, opened the trunk and ripped up the carpet. Underneath was a heart-stopping stash of heavy artillery that reminded Ellie of a movie, or video game, or equally imaginary situation. Swallowing thickly, she watched slack jawed as he selected weapons and ammunition and strapped them to himself.

"Turn off your car," he told her again. Ellie exchanged a look with Sarah, and then ran to her car, turned it off, grabbed the keys, and ran back to Casey.

"You're handing me off?" Sarah cried incredulously, peeking angrily over the back seat.

"What do you want me to do, Yoda? Strap you to my back and tote you around?" he snapped. "Neither of you should be anywhere near here. You get Dr. Bartowski out."

"I can fight!"

"We are not having this argument."

"Yes, we–"

POP! They all fell silent as a single gunshot echoed across the field. Ellie's heart stopped again, and she looked helplessly from Casey to Sarah. John was the first to move. He tossed a gun to Sarah, then grabbed Ellie by the shoulders and looked her square in the eye.

"Go to the Home Entertainment Room of the BuyMore."

Tears of confusion filled Ellie's eyes and her voice quivered as she asked "Why?"

He slammed the trunk, and closed the back door as he guided her to the driver's seat of the car.

"It's secure."

-----

Casey concentrated on breathing and moving quietly as he dashed through the hanger toward the sound of the gunshot. The car gate wouldn't open, but he'd shot open the lock on the personnel gate and went through there. He'd been worried that he and Sarah were chasing a whim running here like the world was about to end, but the sound of weapon-fire had confirmed his paranoia. No extraction should involve gunshots.

The field had been evacuated, probably for the security of the extraction procedure, so there was no one around for Casey to accumulate as back-up. He could hear the whir of helicopter blades but saw nothing just yet. Two more buildings, then right. The fire burned in his mind. Leaving Ellie and Sarah together had probably been a bad idea given their mutual obsession with Chuck, but what choice did he have? Neither of them were fit for combat situations. Sarah needed a doctor; Ellie needed protection. It was a match. Highly explosive.

Coming around the last bend, Casey ducked into a hanger, using the lip of the door frame as cover. He saw Chuck lying on the ground behind Dasik's car and Dasik crouched next to him. A man with blue coveralls and a high-powered rifle stood next to the helicopter. He had a two-way radio in hand and spoke low and haughtily. Casey raised his sniper rifle to take aim at the enemy. Just in the cross-hairs –

CLANG!

The force of a thousand stampeding rhinos ripped the rifle from Casey's hand, spinning the butt of the gun into his temple. He fell backwards and ducked deeper into his cover as the gun clattered away. He'd been sniped! The man in blue coveralls was not alone, meaning Dasik and Chuck were probably already in someone's cross-hairs. All the shooter needed to know was which one to kill.

Fighting to catch his breath, Casey looked warily at his disfigured rifle. The shot had been perfectly aimed, catching the barrel and warping it, making it useless. He shrugged the next biggest gun off his shoulder and considered his situation. The person must be somewhere above him to make a shot like that, but clearly if his assailant had the proper angle into this shelter, Casey would be dead by now.

Sneaking back into the hanger and cutting across to the opposite side, he looked for something to use as a shield and came up empty. Peeking out the door again, he saw Dasik motioning to Chuck.

Good. Both alive. They were about to fall back, but they didn't even know about the sniper. Casey would've set cover fire for them, but he didn't know where the shots were coming from or how many other shooters might be around. Croy wasn't the type to skimp. Casey couldn't see the man in blue coveralls from this point.

Before he could holler a warning, Chuck took off running toward a storage shed across the way from Casey. Dasik was two steps behind. Bullets sprayed the ground and Casey jumped out of his cover, found the source, and started firing. Then Dasik's car exploded.

The shocks knocked Casey to the ground and he scrambled quickly toward the shed where Chuck and Dasik were going. He rolled as his clothes caught fire, but from the lack of bullets, he figured that Dasik had achieved his goal. As much as Casey got off on heavy artillery, he could not match Dasik's proclivity for driving around with explosives and blowing up his own stuff as a manner of one-man cover fire.

When Casey ducked into the hanger, he saw Chuck lying on the ground with Dasik sprawled on top of him. Blood pooled on the floor around the pair.

"Kid, are you okay?" Casey whispered urgently, slapping Chuck's cheek until he stirred. "Bartowski!"

Chuck's head lolled to the side and his whole body seized at the sight of the blood pooled next to him and the dead weight of Dasik on his chest. "Blood… I'm shot."

"It's not yours," Casey said. He kept looking out the door, feeling cornered. There was only one way out of here and that was through the wall of fire they'd come. And Casey hadn't brought a car that he could blow up as substitute cover fire – or a partner. Casey ran to the door and checked for the sniper on the opposite roof top.

"It's not –" Chuck stammered.

"Not. Yours," Casey said firmly as he picked off the assailant. One less thing.

"Dasik!" Chuck cried, sitting up and cradling the dead man on his lap.

Casey yanked Chuck's elbow. "On your feet, soldier."

Chuck wriggled out from under Dasik, but stayed low.

"On three," Chuck said weakly, moving to pick up Dasik in the same way he'd done for Sarah when she was shot.

"Not this time." Dasik had a bullet wound to the head – the kind you can't recover from. Chuck didn't seem to care.

"One," Chuck said.

"Chuck –"

"Two."

"Aw, hell," Casey griped. He grabbed Chuck, tossed him over one shoulder and ran. The sound of a cocking weapon stopped him in his tracks.

"I wouldn't, Major Casey."

Casey turned sharply and dropped Chuck behind the nearest upright thing. The man in blue coveralls had a semi-automatic pointed directly at him and Casey had his weapon aimed right back. He wasn't anyone Casey recognized from the Chetallis or Alignton. Perhaps he was another inside man, or one of Croy's informants.

"Who are you?" Casey demanded. "What do you want?"

"I want that kid. What did you call him? The Intersect? That's a piece to retire with."

"Excuse me," Chuck stuttered, raising a hand from behind the crate he was crouched behind.

"Stay down," Casey growled.

"He needs me alive," Chuck pointed out, in his haughty, imbecile voice. Casey nearly kicked him. Chuck didn't seem to distinguish between alive and in once piece. The man in blue coveralls pulled a second gun so he could have one on Casey and one on Chuck.

"Croy will kill him if I have even a scratch," Chuck said, though his voice was shaking. "Croy will probably kill him anyway once he's done with him. He doesn't like to leave a trail."

Casey recognized Chuck's bluff, but the man in blue coveralls flinched.

"We never should've changed the job," the man groused.

"What job?"

"Peanuts compared to this," the man said dismissively. Casey tensed as he recognized the look in the man's eyes and the way he was shifting his weaponry – like he was aiming both at once.

"The boss runs across an old nemesis," the man said airily. "Who knew it would lead us to the most valuable intelligence weapon on the west coast."

Casey rolled his eyes because he abhorred villain speeches. He was saved from saying as much when a shuriken blade flew from nowhere and caught the man in the jugular. Casey whirled his gun in the direction of the attacker, and recognized his own car zooming toward the heli-pad.

"Can't fight, eh?" Sarah shouted from the side window.

Chuck was already running toward the car and he dove into the foot-well of the back seat leaving shotgun for Casey.

"Go! Get out!" Casey ordered Ellie as he made one last sweep for assailants and swung into the passenger seat. He tried to tell himself that the man in blue coveralls was never going to say what the original job was anyway. If he'd been reading the look in that man's eyes properly, there were bullets about to fly.

Ellie's knuckles were white as she skidded back the way they had come.

"I told you to go to the BuyMore," Casey seethed, redirecting his frustration toward her.

"You meant right away?" she retorted sarcastically. "Shall I go there now?"

"No," Casey grumbled. He checked behind them, but no one was following. Apparently the man in the blue coveralls only had one other gunman and Casey had picked him off in a lucky shot. He did not want to explain this to the General in the morning.

Ellie's jaw set defiantly and she looked in the rearview mirror, trying to catch a glimpse of her brother.

"Chuck, are you okay?" Ellie asked. Casey looked back at the kid, squished into the foot space, white as a sheet, and covered in Dasik's blood. Chuck seemed more shocked to see Sarah than anything else.

"F – fine. S – Sarah? You're –"

"I'm alive," she confirmed. Her hand rested on his head and she leaned heavily against the door. Not bad for her first day back on the job.

"I'm not good with fake cops," Chuck said wearily. "Next guy that tries to extract me needs to be a circus clown."

-----

Chuck was cleaned and showered, but still so freaked out that he could feel every point where the fabric of his shirt touched his skin. He sat on the couch and Sarah lay sideways so that her head rested on his lap. He'd been doing that acupressure thing on her hand so she wouldn't be so queasy, but she was fighting larger demons than he knew how to handle. She seemed so frail, and the only reason she wasn't at a hospital right now is because the last time she'd been in one, she'd been poisoned. The two weeks of being unconscious had given the rest of her body time to heal, though, so she wasn't in pain so much as she was in withdrawal. She masked it bravely, though.

The two of them took up the whole couch. Ellie was curled up in Devon's arms in the love seat, and Morgan was in the kitchen, popping popcorn, and singing a filk he'd made up. Every now and then, Chuck looked over at Ellie to make sure she was okay. She didn't have the same freak-out gene that he had – that's how she survived as a doctor. Still, he could see in her eyes how upset she was. Devon saw it too, but he had to live with the excuse she'd given him, and all he could do was keep holding on to her. She looked so safe wrapped up in his arms.

It was the first time in awhile that the group of them were together to watch a movie, but neither Chuck nor Ellie felt compelled to leave the house at the moment, and Sarah didn't much have the option. The CIA was sending someone new tomorrow night and Chuck tried not to worry for that person's safety, given his track record. Chuck regretted that he had never broken Dasik's austere shell. He barely knew the man who had died to save his life.

"Serenity night already?" Sarah asked as the DVD loaded and the menu came up.

"Time flies when you're poisoned and unconscious and declared dead to the world," Chuck joked cheerlessly.

"I don't see why this movie's on a monthly rotation," Devon complained.

"Because it's awesome," Sarah said immediately and they all laughed. "I was just hoping for something I could sleep through."

Chuck laughed. He hadn't realized that Sarah liked this movie.

"Are you feeling okay?" Ellie asked her.

"Better than an hour ago."

"You need to get that cast off," Morgan said seriously as he set the popcorn bowl on the table and settled on the floor in front of the couch. "You're taking up all the best seats."

"But you all signed it!" Sarah protested.

"We'll take a picture," Devon assured.

Chuck's hand fell on Sarah's shoulder and his fingers stroked absently through her hair.

"Devon, can you go see what's taking John so long," Ellie said as the intro music on the DVD recycled. "I told him 8 sharp."

"I don't think he's coming," Chuck said.

"He does know it's not an option, right?" Ellie said sternly.

Chuck looked sideways, noting the location of the various bugs in the room, murmuring to himself, "He does now."

"I have the dirt on him," Ellie continued threateningly as if she knew he was eavesdropping.

"Give him another five minutes, babe. I'm cozy," Devon said. They snuggled into giggles and kissing and Chuck smiled in spite of himself. He knew Casey had no desire to be social at the moment, given that he had burns and bullet holes of his own to tend to. Still, Ellie could get awfully pushy when she was traumatized. His sister was demanding normalcy and society and she would drag Casey forcefully if need be. It was her way.

Fortunately, it didn't come to that. The door knocked a few minutes later and Casey came in with a six-pack of beers and a forced smile. Chuck tried not to look at his bruised cheek or think too hard about why he wore long sleeves on such a warm night. He looked selfishly at the couch, lifted Sarah's feet and set them on his lap, telling her that she should keep the leg elevated anyway.

"I'm glad you came," she whispered and Chuck had a feeling the words meant something deeper than he knew.

Casey smirked and nodded to the TV screen. "I only ever hear this movie from the other side. It's time to finally see it."

-----

EPILOGUE

Sarah couldn't believe she'd convinced them to let her stay. The CIA had sent someone else to guard Chuck, but his cover was that he was her cousin come to help her while she recovered physically. She'd convinced the Director that the new man, Andy, would integrate much quicker into the mission by piggy backing her cover. This was an opportunity in disguise, allowing her to go deep and establish roots in this cover. Unfortunately, it meant that she didn't wear a watch-radio, but she was working on that point, and in the mean time, Casey had given her another rewired Ipod shuffle with the warning to only use it for emergencies.

Andy had brought her along to the shopping center that morning and she scouted as he hunted through the Large Mart picking up supplies. Hobbling across the parking lot on crutches, she made her way to the Wienerlicious and was surprised to find it closed. Scooter sat outside the door, leaning against the glass, turning the keys in his hand.

"Opening for lunch?" she greeted softly.

He jumped to his feet, mumbling a greeting, running a hand through his hair, and smoothing his vest. "What are you doing here?"

"It's Monday," she said sweetly. "I said I'd see you Monday."

Scooter nodded and sniffed awkwardly. "You did say that. It's good you waited. We just cleaned up the place and haven't been open. There was all the blood, then we lost a full time employee and the manager had a concussion…"

"Have you been in?"

"I'm going in," he said assuredly, though he did not seem confident at all. "I will, but … I'm talking to you. You shouldn't have to … you were shot …"

"I wasn't shot in there," Sarah told him. She pointed across the lot toward the lingerie store. "It happened over there. I haven't gone over there yet."

"How did you get here?"

"Teleportation," Sarah joked and he smiled. "My cousin is in town helping me out. He's over at Large Mart."

Scooter looked at the keys in his hand and finally built up the nerve to open the front door. It was weird walking in. Everything was clean and sterilized. All that had been broken during the fight was repaired or replaced. It looked like the polished set of a doll house, not the scene of a crime. Scooter went immediately back to the freezer to inventory supplies and Sarah leaned on the counter.

"The police said you identified Croy," Sarah said tentatively. "I didn't realize you paid so much attention to customers."

"You get shot once, you start to notice people," Scooter said matter-of-factly. Sarah wasn't sure how to take that.

"That's true," she agreed. She crossed to one of the tables and sat, fingering the empty napkin holder. Scooter came back a few moments later and flipped on the hot dog oven.

"Sorry, if you're not going to order something, you can't sit at the table."

Sarah smiled sweetly at the joke, and then out of habit, she started scanning the parking lot for unusual activity. She noticed Casey come out of the BuyMore for ten minutes, probably on break, and do the same. This was normally when he came across the way for a mid-morning briefing and a dog, but that routine was long broken. Still, the Wienerlicious really was an ideal place for surveillance when she wasn't slaving over the corn dog fryer. Perhaps that was why Croy had sat here for so long that first day. Croy was still out there. So was Zer. Perhaps –

"Paranoia, isn't it?" Scooter said eerily. "Something like this happens and you don't feel safe anymore."

Sarah looked back at him and then noticed a new security camera in the corner behind the register. Then she saw the guilt in his eyes. "Stop blaming yourself."

"All the sudden you're a mind reader?" he said cynically.

"No. I'm a woman."

He gave her a funny look, so she explained.

"I can tell you what to think."

Rolling his eyes, he set a stack of napkins on the table and brought the napkin holders to her. Then he sat across from her and they started stocking the napkins together. He was biting back a retort, but she was pretty sure she heard the words 'girl on top' in the grumbles.

-----


End file.
